


Whispers of Lilac

by OpalSpirit



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Atticus - Freeform, Branding, Curses, Dancing, Dark Magic, Domestic Fluff, Extended Scenes, F/M, Falling In Love, Feels galore, Flower Symbolism, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Implied Sexual Content, Lang Leav, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Magic, Man-hunt, Memory Loss, Michael Faudet, Nikita Gill, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Pet Names, Public executions, Realm Hopping, Red Plague (The Arcana), Rituals, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Tragic Romance, Trials, angst baby, beau taplin, magic tattoos, memory recovery, murder investigation, slight AU, Русский | Russian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24369223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalSpirit/pseuds/OpalSpirit
Summary: "Dance with me and pretend the world doesn't exist," Julian pleaded, his hand outstretched, beckoning for me to take it. To forget all but ourselves.After that, there was no going back. The moment I took his hand, my fate was tied to his. Just as my heart was.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. The High Priestess and the Magician

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Sun_Forged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sun_Forged/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Peonies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532929) by [therosyhours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/therosyhours/pseuds/therosyhours). 



> Whispers of Lilac follows my apprentice Sairene through Julian's route in Nix Hydra's 'The Arcana'. This has been tagged as a Slight AU as I will be using lines and scenes from the game while adding my own 'extended' ones and embellishments on others.

My name is Sairene and I am a student of the Magical Arts in the city of Vesuvia. I know not of my family, or if I even have any. Many believe me to be related to my master and teacher Asra. While we share the same violet eyes and fair hair, we do not share blood.

The shop in which I work alongside my master makes up a good portion of my world. I have little cause to venture elsewhere, unlike my master, whose desire for travel often takes him from me.

My master is known throughout the city for his skill with the Arcana. Although he has been teaching me and praising my skills, I feel as though I will never quite measure up. He created his own deck and has often bid me to do the same.

Tonight is a moonless night and in his opinion, the best in which to travel.

"Master must you really go?"

He turns to me, hat and scarf in hand and smiles comfortingly. "I will not be away for long."

A heavy sigh leaves me. "You say that every time and yet you never tell me where it is you go."

He looks strangely sad as he regards me as we stand in the shop, the soft light of the lanterns casting angles on his face that seem to age him. "When it is time for you to know," he replies gently, "then I shall tell you."

A faint wave of irritation washes over me. It is the same every time I ask. In all honesty, I do not know why I still do.

"Here," he says, pulling me from my thoughts and back to the present. "Take this."

Looking down, I see that he is holding out a small, cloth-wrapped package. The faint whispers at the back of my mind tell me what this is. "Your deck?" I breathe, looking back to him, my hands trembling as they take hold of the cards. "You think I am ready Master?"

"You are still calling me that," Asra murmurs and shakes his head with a fond smile. "To answer your question, you have made incredible progress Sairene. That being said, the only one who can truly answer that is you."

Taking a deep breath and letting it flow out of me, I smile up at him and hold the cards up. "Shall we ask the cards, just to be sure?"

Asra grins. "What an excellent suggestion," he complements. "It _has_ been a while since we have practiced, has it not?"

I nod and feel my smile drop. "Because you're always gone?" I ask sadly.

"Perhaps," he replies softly, the sadness in my voice is mirrored in his eyes as he looks back at me. "But I am here now," he says and lays a comforting hand on my shoulder. The one that always seems to ache when the weather turns for the cold. "Shall we go to the backroom?"

Mustering a smile and determined to make the most of this moment, I nod and lead the way through to the back of the shop.

As we walk the short distance I feel something cold and smooth brush my ankle. Looking down, I soon find myself smiling when I see who it is. A lavender serpent, Faust. She is Asra's familiar and she is pleased to see me, I think.

"It seems we have company," Asra remarks as he bends to scoop her off the floor. Almost instantly, she curls around his shoulder and nuzzles his cheek before blepping cheekily at me. "I know dear girl," he croons as she bumps his hand in demand for strokes. "But I shall be back soon. Now," he says as we seat ourselves around the table where he reads for clients. "If all are present, let us begin."

Setting the cards gently on the table, I tie my light hair back with the lilac ribbon I always wear either around my wrist or in my hair. My earrings move with me as I lean forward slightly to shuffle the cards. I feel his gaze follow the cards as they slip through my ring-clad fingers, the light of the lamps catching on the singular opal on my left hand.

At long last, I lay three cards on the table and turn one to face up. It is the High Priestess.

Intrigued, Asra leans in closer, his violet eyes focused on the card. "What is she telling you?" He whispers in a reverent tone. "Does she speak to you now?"

I nod slowly. The Arcana have spoken to me before and their language is not in any human tongue. "She feels as though you have abandoned her," I reply, my brow furrowing.

"She does?" He asks, the shock evident as his eyes meet mine.

"Indeed," I murmur, my eyes narrowing as the answer becomes clearer in my mind. "She waits for you. Patiently, she awaits to be reunited with you. To be close once more-"

My words are interrupted by a sharp series of knocks that startles all of us. Who could that possibly be? Especially at this hour.

"Have we forgotten to douse the lamp?" Asra asks, grinning as he collects his things. "I shall take that as my cue. I really must go. Look after yourself and be sure to practice when you can." With a quick kiss to my forehead and a small smile, he slips from the shop and the soft closing of the back door is the last thing I hear before the knocking comes again.

Curiosity drives me towards the door and to open it. I do not get the chance to speak as the mysterious customer steps into the shop. She is a tall, elegant woman and is arrayed in the finest fabrics and jewels I have ever laid my eyes on. When she lowers her veil, I stifle a gasp.

What in the world could Countess Nadia want with me?

The lamps cast her regal sienna features in a warm light. "Forgive me for the hour," she says in a dulcet tone, completely unaware of my shock. "But I shall not suffer yet another sleepless night." Her ruby, kohl rimmed eyes regard me in my stunned state. She exudes grace and power simply by standing before me. Her elegant hands are delicately hennaed and the patterns catch my attention as she wrings her hands. "You must read the cards for me," she continues, her tone becoming a little impatient. "Your reputation is wide spread indeed and your name is whispered in wonder throughout the city. Although," she pauses and cants her head to the side, her eyes narrowing, "in my dream, you appeared a little different."

"Dreams?" I finally manage to say and am relived to find my voice steady.

The Countess sighs heavily and nods. "Indeed," she replies. "An ability I often wish I did not possess, but alas, I do. Often they carry visions of the future, events yet to come about. I rarely remember them until they happen. But this one was different. What I saw, the future shown to me, the one that brought me to you, is one I cannot possibly allow to come to pass. So tell me, magician, will you hear my proposal?"

I am sure my eyes are as big as a full moon. "Proposal?" I repeat.

My question prompts a soft laugh from her. "Not one for talking are we? Might it be the nerves? It is quite alright, you have nothing to worry about. What I require of you is indeed very little."

I try my damnest not to stare in further surprise at her words. Licking my lips, I straighten my stance. "What might you require of me, Countess?"

"There is no need to be so shy," she replies, smirking. "Consider it an invitation. Be my guest at the palace for a short while. You will be afforded every luxury, of course. It is as my dreams foretold. I ask only that you bring your skill, and the Arcana.” 

A heartbeat passes before I nod. "As you wish Countess."

My answer seems to please her. "You have made a wise choice magician. Tell me, what is your name?"

Swallowing my nerves, I introduce myself. "Sairene, Countess. My name is Sairene."

Murmuring my name softly to herself, she nods. "Very well, I shall be sure to alert the guards to your coming to stay at the palace. Now," she says, clasping her hands together. "Let me see these venerated talents of yours. You will do a reading for me, won't you?"

Eagerly and a little nervously, I nod. "Of course Countess, please follow me."

Under the weight of her regal gaze, I lead her to the humble reading room and wait for her to be seated first before taking my place across from her.

"Go on," she urges and gestures to the cards that I have yet to shuffle.

As I did with Master Asra, I lay three cards on the table between us and select one. "The Magician," I announce softly as I turn the card's face up.

The Countess smiles thinly. "How very appropriate," she murmurs. "Tell me, what has he in store for me?"

I lean forward slightly and peer closely at the card. "You have a plan," I reply, the answer coming to my cleared mind.

"Keep going," the Countess says.

"One that’s long in the making. Years upon years. Now, you seek to set it in motion.”

"And?" She asks, her tone expectant. "Should I move?"

"Yes," I reply, looking up to meet her brilliant ruby eyes. "Act now. Everything has fallen into place."

Suddenly she stand. "Say no more," she says firmly. I struggle to keep up when she parts the curtain and moves gracefully back into the front of the shop. "Your fortunes are simple," she continues to speak. "Much the same as the others I’ve heard, and yet, you are the first to pique my interest.”

With more elegance than I could ever hope to posses, she covers her hair and face with her veil and coughs delicately. "Ahem."

I all but trip over my own feet in my eagerness to open the door. She smiles faintly as she watches me.

"Until tomorrow," she says. "Sweet dreams Sairene." With those words, she drifts into the mist, her words remaining with me even as I close the door.

Resting my forehead against the smooth wood of the door, I inhale deeply before letting it out in a sigh. All that talk of my reputation and my talents. Never have I been more confused. On the night Asra left was the night I needed his guidance the most. The _Countess_ wanting to seek _my_ help. Shaking my head, I stand up straight, loosening my hair from its ribbon. Raking a hand through the opalescent strands, I simply stand there for a moment.

"Strange hours for a shop to keep."

The words, spoken in an unfamiliar voice, have me jump in shock. Placing a hand over my racing heart, I look into the gloom where the voice came from and dare to take a few hesitant steps forward. 

"Behind you," the voice says again, a note of impatience has leeched into the smooth tones. I turn so fast I lose my balance for a brief moment. I see a tall man before me wearing a strange birdlike mask.

“This is the witch’s lair,” he hisses, “So who might _you_ be?”

As he takes a step closer, I do the only thing my mind will allow me to. My legs spring into action and take me in the direction of the door. Before I so much as can take the first step, two long arms loop around my waist and haul me against a solid chest. "You are a slippery one," the masked intruder chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine as I begin to struggle for freedom.

In my struggles, his mask is knocked loose and I am released, breathing heavily as I put some distance between myself and the tall man. My chest is heaving as I take in his appearance. One might go so far as to say that he is handsome. With his red curls that obscure what I believe to be an eye patch over his right eye. High and sharp cheekbones are made more prominent in the lamplight. I have seen this man before, on wanted posters around the city, yet his name escapes me. 

His visible grey eye narrows as he too takes in my rather tussled appearance.

"Lavender," he whispers and I see his eye drawn to the exposed tattoo on my chest. The loose nature of my clothing often allows for it to become visible and now is no exception, especially with my shirt hanging off one shoulder, my breast thankfully still concealed. Though by now, it is evident that his rapt attention is not there.

"Yes," I reply softly. It seems to be my response that snaps him from the trance he fell into. The look of dawning recognition on my face makes him smile coldly.

"And there it is," he says at last. "That all too familiar look of shock and then horror, may I assume that you know who I am?"

I swallow hard and nod. "Doctor Jules?" I whisper.

He grimaces at the name. "How I had hoped never to hear that name again," he mutters. "The late Count called me that, I hated it then and I hate it now. I go by Doctor Devorak, if it isn't too much trouble?" Coughing lightly, he seems to remember his original purpose. "Quickly now, where is the witch?"

"Master Asra isn't here," I say quickly and hold my hands in a show of innocence. "He never tells me where he goes or for how long."

"Master, hey?" The Doctor mutters, regarding me in a strange manner. “Ahem, well, I won’t pry into your personal affairs. But if you don’t know, and I don’t know…”

He is easily taller than me and could quite easily overpower me should I try anything. And yet, it is neither of these that is the cause of my quickening heartbeat.

"How about we ask those cards of yours?" He asks suddenly, taking me by surprise yet again.

I blink. "Come again?"

He smirks in response and nods towards the back room. "That is what that room is for, is it not?"

I narrow my eyes at him, his true motives still hidden from me. Nevertheless, I step around him and into the room beyond, the brief brush of his gloved hands against my bare ones sending a small spark through me as I pass. Shaking myself, I wait for him to be seated and shuffle the cards. I can feel his gaze on me as I lay out the three cards.

"Go on," he urges, his tone surprisingly gentle. "I mean you no harm. Please," he gestures to the cards.

Bidding my heart to calm and my hands to steady, I reach out and flip one of the cards. My breath stutters within me as the image is revealed. "Death," I say in a voice barely above a whisper. My mind is racing too much for a clear message to come.

"Death?" He whispers. "Death?" He repeats, louder this time and barks with laughter. "You _have_ got to be kidding me," he mutters and looks down at the card with disdain as he rises to his feet. “Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away,” he says bitterly. “She has no interest in an abomination like me.”

Quickly I shake my head. "No-" I begin to explain the card's true meaning, but he has already left the room. Scrambling to my feet, I follow him back to the shop. "That is not what it-"

"No matter," he cuts me off and takes his mask in hand. "I thank you for your hospitality," he says, turning to face me and offers me a small smile, one I find myself returning. "I will let you in on a little secret," he says, his tone hushed. "Your witch friend will be back for you. He’s taught you his tricks. You may even say that he cares for you. But when he returns?” He looks down at the mask in his hands, staring into its red glass eyes before looking back to me. “Seek me out. For your own sake. That creature is far more dangerous than you know."

Confused, I follow him to the door. "Will I see you again?" I ask softly before I can truly think about what I'm saying

My words surprise him and make him turn to face me. "A strange one you are," he murmurs and reaches out, adjusting the fallen side of my blouse. The touch is light, hesitant and a little unsure. Stepping back, he breaks the brief silence. "Well then, the hour is late and I am out of time."

With those words, he affixes the mask and steps over the threshold. "Please," he says, the light pleading in his voice confusing me. "Do not let him fool you."

I say nothing as I watch him fade into the mist that cloaks the city. I watch long after he disappears.


	2. The Empress: Day

I wander aimlessly through frigid stone halls, where the air tastes of ash. Only a few feeble rays of light pierce the gloom, leaking around the edge of the open door ahead of me. There are answers behind that door. Secrets from the long-forgotten past. Waiting for me...

_"A guest?"_

I jump, gaze darting up and down the corridor. Rows of ruined portraits stare back at me, though their eyes have been gouged out by vicious claws. Warmth like an ember radiates at the back of my neck, and my feet carry me forward. I _need_ to see what's in that room. I need to see what lies beyond...

_"Ahhh! Could you be...?"_

The razor-sharp tips of invisible claws brush my cheek, and I freeze on the spot.

_"You want to know, and I want to know you..."_

The feeling of warmth grows, and the air around me crackles with energy. I take another step toward the door, and the voice answers with a soft, pleased chuckle. _"Come. Stay with me."_ The unseen claws trail down to my neck, resting lightly over the hollow of my throat.

I shiver. Was it my imagination, or did I just feel the brush of soft fur on my skin? "Who are you?" I ask into the gloom.

 _"No one. No one..."_ A wistful sigh washes over me. _"Not like you."_

Without warning, the world dissolves into swirling red mist. _"You will come back to me..."_ I sink to my knees, clutching my head. Every whispered word sends jolts of pain through my skull. _"You will all come crawling back in the end. Soon..."_

The voice gasps as if choked off, it fades and everything around me turns to darkness.

I jolt upright in my bed, my heart hammering and my simple nightdress clinging to me. That hallway, the door... and that voice. I've dreamed of them before, but never so vividly. Moving to sit by the edge of the bed, I let my head rest in my hands and focus on my breathing. It all felt so real.

I can almost feel the chilly stone beneath my feet, almost see the red haze-like smoke lingering in the air. The voice echoes in my head all morning, as does the feeling of being beckoned somewhere else... I desperately want to, to finally find those answer that have slipped through my fingers like sand. But every time I do, I wake before I reach the door.

By the time I have composed myself and readied myself for the day ahead, the sun has started to rise. I throw on a travelling cloak and make my way outside, dragging the solid wood door closed behind me. But when I turn around, an enormous stranger fills my doorway, engulfing me in shadow. His flesh is scored with a patchwork of scars, clean and jagged, shallow as well as deep.

The earthy scent of myrrh washes over me, as I look up...and up...and up. Stormy green eyes gaze down at me, barely visible beneath the hood.

Politely clearing my throat, I offer a small smile. "Hello?"

The stranger flinches at the sound of my voice, falling back on his heels. Heavy chains rattle from beneath the thick cloak, dragging against the cobblestones. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, shrinking into his own cloak. "Don't go."

Don't go where? Confusion takes over. Who is this man? What is he doing at my shop? The questions swirl in my head, chasing each other in circles, each tumbling over the next. I take a hesitant step toward the stranger, who backs away once more. His eyes dart up and down the deserted street, looking at anything but me.

When the stranger finally speaks again, its barely more than a rumbling whisper. "You... are in grave danger."

I narrow my eyes in thought. "What kind of danger? Are you talking about the Palace?"

"Yes."

"Why?" I ask, leaning forward slightly. "What's at the Palace?"

Shoulders hunched, he stares at his own feet, refusing to meet my gaze. The silence spirals, heavy and ominous, until he reaches into the depths of his cloak. He produces a small leather pouch, which looks like a child's bauble in his massive hands. "Take it," he says as he slowly extends the pouch toward me. But the moment I reach for it, it slips through his trembling fingers, landing at my feet. 

"What is it?" I ask softly.

"J-just take it!"

Slowly, I kneel and pick it up. The little pouch is rough but made with care, secured with a tight twine knot. Leaves rustle inside the leather. I can smell myrrh, and several other herbs used for protective magic. "This is a charm for protection," I observe in a whisper.

"Its, for you," the stranger replies in a barely audible voice. "To keep you safe."

If I was confused before, I am completely bamboozled now. I carefully pocket the charm and take a deep breath, trying to be as clear as possible. "To keep me safe from what?"

"Him."

I furrow my brows and I'm positive my face shows my confusion all too clearly. "Who?"

If anything, my questions only seem to agitate the stranger more. He turns and starts shuffling down the alley, dragging his chains.

"Wait!" I call after him and my curiosity compels me to follow after him.

My odd visitor quickens his strides, and the cowl slips from his face. "I-I gave you my warning. Go away!" He skirts around the lamppost at the end of the street, but it's far too narrow to conceal him. As soon as I approach, the stranger lumbers away again.

"Are you...trying to hide from me?" I ask, fighting to keep a smile from my face.

"No," he replies firmly but despite what he just said, he moves behind a stack of empty barrels. But even though it's piled high, he towers over it.

"Um... I can still see you," I inform him, a giggle building up in my throat at his antics.

This time, he crouches near a stray dog, napping on the street. The stranger seems to realise the futility of the gesture, right as the dog gets up and trots off. "Leave me alone," he rumbles.

"Please," I say gently, "I just want to talk. I swear."

The stranger shakes his head. "Don't."

As I'm puzzling that one over, he rounds the corner behind a building, and out of sight. I blink, peering up and down the foggy street. What was I doing? I left the shop, and then... wasn't someone else here just now?

I shake off the fading thought. I don't have time to dawdle; the Countess is expecting me.

I hurry back to the door and turn the first lock, then the second and third. Almost satisfied, I press my right hand to the door and whisper a cross-me-not spell. White whorls glow deep within the wood of the door, slowly fading into the dark grain.

Exhaling deeply, I continue toward the narrow, mossy steps that lead to the marketplace. As I walk, I find myself idly toying with a little leather pouch in my pocket...

It's early yet, but the marketplace is already wide awake and bustling with activity. Soon I am surrounded by the sounds of friendly chatter, laughter, and vendors hawking their wares. I've barely taken five steps when an unfamiliar voice calls to me over the hubbub.

"Hey, you must be Sairene!"

I whirl about, unable to find the source of the voice.

"Over here!" They call again. "Over here!" Beaming brightly, a young woman with flaming red hair waves to me from the awning next to the baker's stall. The baker's sun-speckled face also lights up with a broad smile.

"Sairene!" He greets me, "I didn't know you and Portia were friends."

I blink. Portia?

"Seems she knows everyone in this town," he continues with a small laugh.

"Oh, we've only just met," the young woman, Portia, says. "But I'm sure we'll be fast friends." She holds out a hand, "I'm Portia. Nice to meet you." The skin of her small palm is rough against mine, calloused. "The Countess sent me."

"Are you escorting me to the Palace?" I finally ask.

Portia nods. "Yep. Give me just a second, then we'll be on our way." Portia hefts a basket of pomegranates, holding the up for the baker to inspect. "Our usual trade? I'll throw in another fruit for some chamomile cakes."

"Oh ho ho!" The baker laughs and smiles broadly. "You have yourself a deal!"

Fruit and cakes change hands, and the baker hands me a roll of my favourite pumpkin bread with a wink. "On the house Sairene. Be sure to give my best to Asra."

Nodding, I smile. "I always do."

Portia leads me up the well-worn stone steps, past a fortune-teller's booth. Every now and then, I catch her sneaking curious glances at me. "You know," she says softly. "My brother was once engaged to a girl called Sairene but unfortunately she passed away before they had a chance to get married."

Her words tug at my heart and at something in the back of my mind. "I am so sorry to hear that," I reply in the same tone. "I can't imagine what that must be like."

She smiles brightly up at me and shakes her head. "Listen to me, dredging up sad memories while you're here. Anyway, Sairene, milady said you're a magician?"

I laugh softly and shake my head. "A magician's apprentice," I correct.

Portia's eyes widen to the size of saucers. "Wow," she breathes, "so it is true! Can you summon flames? Turn people into frogs?"

"I'm still learning," I reply. "My master Asra's the magician."

"Asra?" She asks, "Asra the magician... now there's someone I haven't met."

"He spends a lot of time out of the city," I say and sigh. Even as I climb the stairs, I wonder where he might be...

"Ooh, sound mysterious," beside me, Portia continues to chatter. "What about you Sairene? You got any deep, dark secrets?"

I blank for a moment. I suppose I do, with my missing memories. But I've only just met Portia.

Seeing my expression, Portia gently nudges my shoulder. "Aww, I'm just teasing. Don't you worry about it."

As the sun makes its way across the sky, Portia and I climb stair after seemingly infinite stair. The higher we ascend, the fewer travelers we encounter along the way. I pause to catch my breath halfway up, looking at the Palace's looming silhouette.

Portia keeps throwing sidelong glances at me, as though something's just on the tip of her tongue.

"What is it?' I ask between pants.

"What?" She blinks and shakes herself. "What's what?"

"You just... looked like you wanted to say something."

"Oh. Did I?" She murmurs, "I guess everyone at the Palace has a lot on their minds these days. Especially the Countess, so I am right glad you are here, Sairene. Milady needs some strong allies." 

I narrow my eyes for the second time today. "What do you mean by that?"

Portia frowns, worrying a loose cobblestone with the toe of her shoe. "Well... I don't want to speak for milady. She'll find you as soon as we arrive."

We reach the Palace just after sunset, standing before a gate of twisted black iron. Beyond that, the Palace rises in a swirl of glittering spires.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Portia says from beside me, seeing my awestruck expression. "I had to pick my jaw up off the ground when I first came here. The Palace was so different from anything I had ever seen before." 

"Where are you from?" I ask, smiling.

"Oh, who, me?" She asks, surprised. She flushes a bit pink, and there's a nervy edge to her laughter. "N-nowhere important. Just a dinky little port south of here." With that, Portia waves to the guards standing on either side of the gate. Their eyes glint at me from behind their helmets. But they lower their weapons when Portia speaks. "Ludovico, Bludmila, this is Sairene. She'll be staying as our guest. Sairene," she turns to me and gestures to the guards, each in turn. "Ludovico and Bludmila." The guards nod at me, their stiff posture relaxing a fraction. 

In unison, they push open the heavy iron gate.

"After you, Sairene," Portia says cheerfully.

The gates slam shut behind me, and there is no turning back.

Portia leads me across a long, steep bridge. Some kind of eel twists through the swirling waters below, glowing like a bloodless ghost. I shiver, quickening my pace. As we approach the intricate doors, anxieties start to rise, like bubbles coming to a boil within me. My hands soon drift toward my pocket, fidgeting with the leather charm. Though I'm not sure why, the smell of myrrh is oddly calming.

"Here we are!" Portia announces, pulling me from my thoughts. She swings her fist against the copper plating, in three skull-rattling strikes. After the last echoes fade, the pendulous doors swing inward...


	3. The Empress: Night

Portia whisks me through the Palace's halls and into a lavish dining room. Before me is a long table covered with small platters of delicacies. Rich scents fill my lungs, unfamiliar and tantalizing. And, sitting at the head of the table, a wine glass in her elegant hand is the Countess, Nadia.

"Words cannot express how glad I am to see you here, Sairene," she greets me, smiling warmly. "I take it you ran into no trouble on the way here Portia?" She asks the maid standing beside me.

"Not at all!" Portia replies cheerfully, though her tone still holds undertones of respect. "A perfect stroll through town."

A befeathered chamberlain pulls out a chair for me, and I sink into the plush seat.

"Will that be all, Countess?" He asks.

"Yes, thank you," she replies and waves an elegant hand. "You are excused for the evening, chamberlain."

Feathers bobbing, the chamberlain bows low and leaves the dining room.

Then I notice that only two of the many places on the table have been set... Nadia's and mine.

"I do hope you were not expecting anything too extravagant," she says, drawing my attention back to her. "I thought we might have something simple tonight."

I take in the spread before me. Perhaps this is simple for the Palace, but it is still one of the richest meals I have ever seen. The walls and ceiling shimmer gold in the light of the candles. As I take in the room, my eyes land on a massive painting along the wall. Figures with the heads of beasts sit over a meal. The table is laden with small animals, provided by a central character with the head of a goat. Rays of gold glitter around its head, and its red eyes are strikingly lifelike.

"Ah. I see you've noticed the painting," Nadia murmurs from beside me.

I tear my eyes from the painting just in time to see Nadia's thoughtful expression.

"Dreadfully ostentatious, is it not?" She asks, eyeing the painting with clear distaste. "I really should have it taken down. But then," she pauses and thinks for a moment before continuing. "It _was_ one of my late husband's favourites. That figure in the centre, I believe was meant to be Lucio. Graciously providing a bounty for the people." 

The late Count Lucio... he's the reason why I'm here. I swallow nervously. As the thought so much as crosses my mind, the goat figure before me becomes somehow familiar. Suddenly, its eyes seem to focus directly on me.

_"Do you like it? Such a beautiful red..."_

I jolt upright in my seat, and my spoon clatters out of my hand. 

"Sairene! Is something amiss?" Nadia asks, looking most alarmed. "The food not to your liking perhaps?"

The whispery voice fades, but I can still feel those painted eyes watching me. Shaking my head, I paste a convincing smile on my lips. "No, its nothing. I'm fine."

The Countess fixes me with a long, steady look. "I will not push you, Sairene," she says gently. "Nor should I desire to make you uncomfortable. But should you find yourself in need of anything, anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask. After all, it was I who requested your assistance. I would be a very poor host indeed if I did not provide for your comfort and well-being."

The feeling of being watched slowly fades, and Portia bustles back to the table with two steaming bowls of soup.

"Thank you, Portia," Nadia says, smiling at the maid. "And a bottle of the Golden Goose should round out the meal."

"Of course, milady," Portia replies and bobs a curtsy before busying herself with wine glasses and bottles, throwing the occasional curious glance my way. But Nadia doesn't seem to mind her presence.

The moment our glasses are filled, Nadia lifts hers to me in a toast. "Sairene, I must thank you once more for coming to the Palace. The presence of a capable magician is...a great comfort to me. It is my hope that in the coming weeks, you and I shall be close partners. And of course, I shall compensate you most handsomely for investigating my husband's murder. Now, to the matters at hand," her tone becomes serious. "Much as I would love to simply dine, our work is just beginning. I have a lead for you, to set you on your way in this investigation."

She takes a long sip of wine, regarding me over the rim of her glass. "Dr.Julian Devorak," she says, "he was Count Lucio's personal physician. He was apprehended the very evening of Lucio's murder. He even _confessed_ to the crime. But before he could be sentenced, he escaped. He has evaded capture for three years now." 

I sit very still, suddenly cold all over.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Portia freeze. A fragile tray of desserts trembles in her hands.

Doctor Julian Devorak. The very same man who broke into my shop. I swallow hard and pray my voice is steadier than my hands. "Are there any other leads?" I try to keep my voice as neutral as possible. I would prefer a lead that _doesn't_ involve the man who broke into my shop...

"Count Lucio had no shortage of enemies," Nadia replies, "but the doctor is still our strongest, and only, lead. And yet, the apparent facts of the case simply do not add up. For example, why would anyone go through the trouble to murder my husband at all? At the time of his murder, Lucio was already dying. He was yet another victim of the Red Plague that claimed so many in this city."

The Red Plague. Even the whisper of it strikes fear into the hearts of Vesuvians. Years ago, it swept through the city like wildfire. It claimed young and old, frail and strong. There was no way to tell who would succumb."

"When the Count contracted the plague," Nadia continues. "We spared no expense. Physicians, scientists, alchemists, fortune tellers, magicians. All were invited to the Palace, in hopes of finding a cure. Doctor Devorak was one of those who accepted our invitation. But the cure never materialized. The plague simply ran its course, killing thousands before it fizzled out." She pauses briefly, rubbing her temples. "I can simply not find any good motive in murdering a man who was already on death's door. Nor can I make sense of Dr.Devorak's actions after Lucio's death. If he was guilty, and he did confess, why did he flee so soon after?" Nadia sighs, her words hanging heavily in the air.

"Sairene," she says, looking to me. "I hope you can see why this whole mystery vexes me so. I consider myself reasonably keen, but I simply cannot make sense of the few facts I have."

I nod slowly. I'm following her so far... but I still have so many questions. "The Count has been dead for years," I say," so why now?"

"Ah. You are quite right to ask, Sairene," Nadia replies and I feel a tinge of relief. "Vesuvia is in dire need of help. Order needs to be restored... and I am in the unique position to be able to restore it. However, I intend to lead by example, not fear. I must show the people of Vesuvia that I am capable. I have so many plans for Vesuvia. I want to see this city flourish, and I hope you can help me see those dreams to fruition. You see, this year, I intend to hold the Masquerade once more."

I openly stare at her, slack-jawed. When I look over at Portia, her face mirrors my own astonishment. "What? Why?" I finally manage to say.

"Ah, please do not misunderstand me, Sairene," the Countess says, seeing my expression. "Unlike my late husband, I do not enjoy outlandish revels for their own sakes. I much prefer a glass of good wine, good company, and stimulating conversation." Her eyes crinkle ever so slightly when they meet mine. "However, the Masquerade is not about what I want, but what Vesuvia needs. Due to... unforeseen circumstances, I have been out of the public eye for some time. The Masquerade would be an excellent way to restore public confidence and bring the city together. Still, I can hardly ask anybody to attend another Masquerade while Lucio's killer walks free. Therefore, the murder investigation is of the utmost urgency."

She leans forward in her chair, her hands inches from mine. "Sairene, I implore you to be as thorough as possible. Find Doctor Devorak. Learn all that you can from him. If he is indeed innocent, find the real culprit."

I take a deep breath before addressing the elephant in the room. "And if he's guilty?" A small part of me dreads the answer.

Nadia sighs and takes a sip of wine. "Then we have no choice but to carry out his sentence. Execution by hanging."

There is a terrible crash of glass that startles us both. Looking over, I see Portia, who's face is stricken with horror. At her feet, the broken remnants of the Golden Goose are seeping into the floor.

"Portia?' Nadia calls, alarmed.

"F-forgive me, milady," Portia stutters in reply. "Slippery hands."

"It is no matter," Nadia replies kindly. "As long as you are not harmed."

Portia grabs a broom and mop, sweeping away the shattered mess with windsprint speed.

"Sairene," the Countess addresses me once more. "I know I ask much, and we have only just met. But you have quite the reputation. I hear your skill with the arcana surpasses even your master Asra. And for my part, I am most curious to see more of your talents at work." She carefully finishes her final sip of wine. "Tomorrow afternoon, I will introduce you to some prominent members of the Court. They are, shall we say, a trifle eccentric. But I hope you might learn something useful from them."

I arch a brow. "You think they might know something of importance?"

Nadia nods. "Yes. As I understand it, my own courtiers helped apprehend Doctor Devorak. I've called upon them to assist with your investigation, to the extent they are able." The Countess rises. On instinct, I rise as well, pushing away my empty bowl. "Portia," she calls. Silences answers her. "Portia," she calls again.

"Yes, milady!" Portia replies, appearing at Nadia's side.

"Show Sairene to the guest quarters," she instructs. "I imagine she's had a long day."

Portia manages a faint, wavering smile before it slips from her face. "O-of course! Right away, milady." Eyes downcast, she escorts me out of the the dining room and back into the Palace proper. The polished stone halls are quiet and empty. Portia ushers me through them without so much as a word.

Taking a deep breath, I dare to break the silence and speak softly. "So..that bottle you dropped at dinner-"

Before I can even get the question out, Portia laughs and shakes her head. "Oh don't you worry about that," she assures me. "Golden Goose may sound fancy, but it's not an expensive wine. Like I said, just slippery hands." Her smile has a shade of desperation and I drop the subject for now. But I know that something is out of place. Portia would certainly not have become Nadia's most trusted servant by dropping bottles left and right...

After a few sharp turns, Portia stops, listening intently. "Hey Sairene? Come here for a second, I wanna show you something." She points to a massive old painting. It shows two large, lanky white dogs with mismatched eyes. Each has a beady black eye, and one ruby red eye. The dogs stand over a pile of deep crimson pomegranates, their paws stained the same brilliant red. "Creepy isn't it?" Portia murmurs. "Now where was it again?" She starts feeling her way along the edge of the painting, murmuring to herself. "Ah ha!" She announces, "gotcha!" She grips the edge of the painting and swings it open, revealing a secret archway beyond. A musty draft billows from the archway. It seems no one has been here for a while. "Neat, isn't it?" She says to me, "the Palace is full of secret passages like this. Every time I think I've found them all, I stumble over another."

With a conspiratorial wink, she ducks through the arch, waving for me to follow. Dusty paintings of animals line the walls of this abandoned hallway. All the subjects are pure whitem with ruby-red eyes glinting through the gloom.

"This used to be the Count's Menagerie Gallery," Portia explains. "Hardly anyone comes here these days."

I glance around. "Then what are we doing here?"

Portia grins. "Its a shortcut to the guest wing! Takes you right past the main stairs. And... I wanted to talk to you. Without being overheard." With that, she carefully swings the portrait shut behind us, taking a deep breath. "You're new to the Palace, so I'll let you in on a little something. It looks all glamorous and glitzy from the outside, but there's something very rotten underneath. A lot of people here have secrets, and they may not want you to find them. I trust milady, and I'm glad you're helping her. But you should look out for yourself, too." 

While I am touched by her concern, I am also curious. "What do you mean? Am I in danger?"

"I hope not!" Portia exclaims before lowering her voice once more. "You're the Countess's guest, after all. But this place has felt kinda strange lately. There are all these rumours of ghosts haunting the halls! Sometimes it's just servants shirking their duties, saying the gallery ghost got them. I've been hearing that old story for years. But recently, well... Even some of the skeptics are starting to whisper." The darkness around us feels like a physical weight. Portia's voice gets softer. "They say there's a beast stalking the old Count's wing. That it speaks even when it's not there."

My hand inches toward the charm in my pocket. The voice I heard at dinner...

"You've just got here," Portia says, pulling me from my thoughts. "But have you heard anything like that?"

I bite my lip and sigh. "Maybe, I'm not sure what it was, but..." I quickly fill Portia in on the voice I heard during dinner.

Portia looks delighted. "Oooh, I knew it! I knew there was something spooky around here." Strangely enough, she doesn't sound alarmed. If anything, she sounds excited. "Listen," she continues. "I know all the ins and outs of the Palace. Secret doors, hidden passages, I've even found some weird magic portals. If you need help tracking down mysteries, I'm your girl."

I can't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. With the whirlwind day so far, it's good to have a friendly face. "Thanks Portia."

"No problem," she replies, smiling widely. "Now, let's get you to your-" She stops as the portrait suddenly creaks open. She frowns. "That's weird. I thought I closed it- eep!" Two white blurs dart past Portia and into the Menagerie Gallery, nearly knocking her over. "Mercedes! Melchior! Ugh, you're not supposed to be in here."

The white shapes skid to a halt, mere inches from me. Mismatched eyes. Pearly white fur. The spitting image of the dogs in the painting. They sniff madly at me, and the smaller one bares teeth in a menacing snarl. 

"That's enough," Portia steps in. "Honestly, the way you two act, it's really no wonder we don't have visitors!" She takes my arm and leads me right past the dogs at a swift march. But the whole way down the Menagerie Gallery, I feel those eyes following me.

It's a relief when Portia pushes aside a heavy tapestry, and we emerge from the dusty, abandoned corridor. "Sorry about that, Sairene," she says as we step clear. "Mercedes and Melchior are- well, were- Count Lucio's hunting dogs. With him gone, they run wild all over the palace."

We take another turn down a cozy looking hallway, and Portia swings open one of the doors. "Here we are," she says, sweeping her arm out in a grand gesture. "These will be your quarters. Make yourself at home, and get some rest. I'll come fetch you before the meeting with courtiers. Sleep well, Sairene." Her soft voice trails off, and she gently slides the door shut.

I carefully put my bag down, alone at last in the vast Palace. I should be tired. It's been a very long day. And yet I can't shake the persistent feeling of hidden secrets, just waiting for me around every corner.

I quickly shrug out of my traveling clothes, eager for some rest. I'm just about to climb into bed when I see a parcel sitting on my bedside table. There is a tightly spiraled note on top, addressed to me, from the Countess.

_Consider this an advance, dear Sairene. Wear it in good health, for it seemed to call your name._

The chain slips through my fingers as I hold the jewel. Am I mistaken? No... I know the feeling too well. Asra's magic radiates from the gem in gentle, soothing ripples. That's strange. Why would something of Asra's be here, at the Palace? Still puzzling it over, I burrow into the luxurious sheets and turn out the light. 

I drift off with the emerald in my hand, surrounded by the familiar feeling of Asra's magic.


	4. The Emperor: Day

The dark hallway looms before me, as it has on so many nights. The room at the far end is closer than it's ever been before. I can hear the creak of the floorboards, and the whisper of wind through an open window. A hot draft rushes past me, bearing with it the taste of dust and ash. I'm close now. So very close. My hand reaches for the door. My fingers grasp the handle, and I slip through effortlessly, the latch clicking shut behind me.

Every lantern and candelabra fills the space with a fierce , ruddy glow. All the lights seem trained on one focal point- a massive painting nearly twice my height. The portrait only grows taller and more overwhelming as I gaze upon it. There's no mistaking the subject. Count Lucio, in the prime of his life, or perhaps depicted by a sycophantic artist. The red of his coat, the golden arm, the fine fur hanging from his shoulders... it's all so lifelike. I can almost see the flush of life in his cheeks, hear the skull crunch beneath his feet-

_"Go on. Touch it."_

A miasma of thick, scorching air pushes my hand toward the portrait. My fingers meet rich, dense fur... then cold metal. The man steps from the canvas with a flourish of his cape. His golden fingers curl lightly around my wrist. "Well, well. What do we have here?" He looks me up and down, his lip curling in a disdainful sneer. "Another pathetic peasant, come to beg for a boon? Luckily for you, I'm feeling generous today. Fear not. I, your beloved Count, will deliver you from your dreary existence." Red mist pours from Lucio's mouth with every word he speaks.

It fills the room, floods my lungs. I drop to my hands and knees, gasping for air. Pain seizes my chest, slowly squeezing like a vice. When the blood-red haze finally clears, only a single chandelier remains lit, casting twisted shadows in every corner. I groan softly, picking myself up from the plush carpet.

"Jules? Jules, is that you? I'm thirsty! Get me some water!" Lucio's emaciated face peeks out from under a mess of blankets and pillows. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen, the telltale sign of the red plague. "Wait," he croaks, looking closer at me. "You're not Jules." He feebly picks up a tasseled cushion, throwing it in my direction. But it merely slips from his nerveless fingers, bouncing on the carpet. "What the hell are you?" He screeches, "what are you doing in my room?!"

The breath I take shudders in and out of me. "I'm Sairene," I say, lifting my chin.

Lucio peers at me through swollen, narrowed eyes. "Sairene... Sairene. Do I know that name? Doesn't matter," he says and attempts a smirk. "Know any good games, Sairene? Stupid Jules keeps saying I have to stay in bed. I can't go out! I can't part!" His tone takes on the whine of a spoiled child. "I'm so _bored!"_ A hacking cough suddenly racks his body. A fine spray of blood stains the pillows and sheets. "Get out. OUT! NO ONE CAN SEE ME LIKE THIS!" He pushes himself up onto his elbows, pointing a bony finger at the door. 

I hastily step back, but something hard catches my heel. I teeter, arms spinning- I fall through folds of dusty velvet, face first into a massive bed. Ruined shreds of fabric hang from the bedframe. A thick layer of fine white ash covers every surface. This is Count Lucio's bed... right where he was murdered. Incinerated. Then the ash covering me...I clap a hand over my mouth, smothering a scream as I struggle to stand.

_"Going so soon? You're no fun."_

That voice, it echoes from every corner of the room, and from within my mind. I scramble to my feet and make a break for the door. I sprint down the hall, searching the vague darkness for any way out. The portraits on the walls stare at me despite their ruined eyes.

_"Come back...come back."_

The voice creeps ever closer. I can almost feel its hot breath on the back of my neck. Yet against all good sense, my feet stop. My neck turns to look back. I see it for a moment. A silhouette, stark against the ruined and tattered paintings. Claws, horns, and hooves like onyx. The white face of a goat, with red eyes fixed gleefully on me. The claws grow impossibly long, reaching for me through the gloom. In a last desperate attempt to get away, I produce the myrrh charm, brandishing it at the creature. It shrieks in fury, recoiling from me and dissolving into smoke...

The musical sound of falling water and crickets fill my ears. Cool, blessed evening air stirs my clothes. Something slips from my palm, landing in the water with a soft splash. "What..?" I whisper confused. I blink the sleep from my eyes. It's still night. I'm standing over a fountain in the Palace garden, with an ancient willow tree overhead. Did I... sleepwalk from my room?

I look down at the emerald necklace in the water, light catching every glimmering surface. The water starts to change, colours blooming, shapes unfolding. Before I know it, my reflection is fading, and in its place I see Asra, drawing water to his face and drinking deeply. Tall palms sway behind him against a glittering sea of stars. His hair catches starlight in every whorl. Each drop that trickles from his hands sends ripples through his image as it strikes the surface. I'm so shocked to see him that I can only gape silently, afraid that any sound will break the spell.

Suddenly, Asra shakes out his hair, blinks the water from his eyes, and looks straight at me. "Sairene? Can you hear me?"

I nod, barely able to believe it myself. What is happening? How did I get here? How am I able to see Asra?

Asra looks as surprised as I am. He leans forward, close enough that I can see every droplet the clings to his eyelashes. "Incredible," he laughs softly. He's sitting cross-legged, probably beside a pond. Stars reflect in the water and glitter in his eyes. "Sairene, are you alright?" He asks, worry seeping into his voice. "You look like you just woke up."

Woke up... yes. I'd been dreaming of the dark hall way once again. "I must have been sleepwalking," I reply. "I had this very strange dream, and when I woke up, I was standing over the water."

"I see," Asra murmurs before smiling fondly. "Even from far away, you are full of surprises."

I furrow my brow and settle myself at the fountain's edge. "What do you mean?"

"You were able to call to me, even from the depths of sleep," he explains. "Impressive, don't you think?" A very familiar snake appears over Asra's shoulder. Faust slithers down his arm and dips her tongue into the water, sending tiny ripples across the image. "Faust. You're happy to see Sairene too?"

With a gentle splash, Faust slips into the water. The next thing I know, she's slithering out of the fountain and through the grass. She makes her way up my arm and gives me a gentle squeeze, looking immensely pleased with herself. I turn back to the fountain, just in time to catch Asra's laugh.

"Ah, I see how it is," he chuckles. "Faust, you'd rather be with Sairene than wandering with me?"

The serpent settles contentedly over my shoulders. Now that I'm over the shock of seeing her emerge from the water, her presence is an immense relief. "I'm glad she's here," I say, reaching up to gently scratch her head. "And I'm glad we can talk, Asra."

Asra smiles faintly, his cheeks flushing. "I see a willow tree behind you. Are you at the Palace?"

I nod, and launch into telling him everything that's happened since we parted. The more I speak, the more his eyes glimmer with keen interest.

"Unbelievable," he says as I finish. "The day I left was the day you needed me the most. And even then, you didn't really need me at all. It sounds like you've been handling yourself quite admirably. Still, I'm glad Faust is with you. If anything strange happens, I'll know. I can live with that."

"Anything strange?" I repeat. "Asra, do you know something about Count Lucio's murder?"

Asra's sleepy, content expression suddenly sharpens. "I... there's something you need to understand, Sairene. Lucio had fanatical supporters and bitter enemies alike. I'm not surprised that Nadia's looking into his murder. But it might dig up some old ghosts that should stay dead."

I sigh and shake my head. "You didn't really answer me."

"...no?"

Faust slides off my shoulder to touch her nose to the water.

With that, Asra sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping a little. "You're right. Faust is opening up to you. It may be time for me to do the same." I nearly choke. My face must be a sight, because it makes him laugh, high and unrestrained. "No, really. It's true. I want to start being more honest with you. What's on your mind? Ask me whatever you like."

One particular question stands out, from the very night Asra left. "Julian Devorak. Why did he break into our shop? What did he want?"

Asra's eyes widen. "Julian? Ah, yes... Julian. Breaking into the shop is just like him. Looking for answers in all the wrong places."

I blink, startled. I've never heard Asra talk like that about anybody before. "Who was Julian to you?"

"I knew him by another name," he replied softly, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink. "He was...a friend, once. Then more. And then something else..." He takes a deep breath and lets it out again. "Who is Julian to me? Who is he to anyone really?" His eyes narrow and harden. "At the end of the day, he's a hack physician with a lot to learn. Sairene, if you want to question him, just watch your step. He's even more slippery than he seems."

With a deep sigh and a shake of his head, Asra clears the heavy mood. "But enough about that. I'm sure you didn't call to me in your sleep just to talk about Julian. Is there, perhaps, something else on your mind?" His twinkling eyes search mine with wordless depth.

"It's getting late," I reply and catch myself mid-yawn.

"Is it? Time is strange, here. Go rest, Sairene. I'll see you again soon. I'll know you'll find me."

I see Asra reaching toward me, toward the water. His touch scatters the image, and he's gone. Faust looks disappointed, curled on the edge of the pool, as I rise to my feet. "We'll see him again soon," I assure her. She gives the pool a longing look. Reluctantly, she slides up my arm to rest against me. Her presence soothes the strange ache in my chest. With a shake of my head, I gather the serpent into my arms and head back inside.

The next day, I awake to chattering birds just outside my window. Faust's curled up in a tight ball next to my pillow, dozing in a golden sunbeam. I've barely finished dressing when someone knocks on my door.

"Sairene?" Portia calls through the door. "Are you there? It's almost time for your meeting with the courtiers."

Meeting? With the courtiers? My eyes widen as realisation slams into me. Did I sleep into the afternoon?! With a sudden jolt of panic, I throw the door open.

Portia's surprised face greets me. "Whoa, there! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I reply, "but is it the afternoon already?"

Portia nods and grins. "Yep. After the day you had yesterday, I thought I'd let you sleep in. But don't worry," she winks at me, "we aren't late. There's plenty of time for a snack." She reaches into her pocket, producing a pastry wrapped in a linen handkerchief. It's still warm. I gratefully take the pastry and tuck in, my panic easing.

"Thanks, Portia," I say, smiling at her.

"Oh don't mention it," she says cheerfully. "Were you up late looking for ghosts?"

The memory of the nightmare comes rushing back, and I repress a shiver. My hand automatically slides into my pocket, only to find it empty. The leather charm... I had it only yesterday. Where could it have gone?

Portia gentle clears her throat, jolting me back to the present. "Come on," she says. "You can tell me all about it after you're done with the courtiers."

Portia leads me down the stairs to a small, elegant salon. Plumes of smoke catch the fading sunshine, and softly lit figures lay about on pillowy couches. The Countess sits behind a gleaming pipe organ, paying no mind to the idle chit-chat around her. But she looks up when I enter, her elegant fingers striking a victorious chord. "It is good to see you, Sairene," she says as she turns the pages of her music, nodding to me with an encouraging smile. "Portia, would you introduce our honoured guest to the court?"

Nodding, Portia clears her throat. "Announcing Sairene, friend of the Palace and apprentice to Asra the magician." She leads me further into the room and towards them. "Sairene, this is Procurator Volta, Praetor Vlastomil, Pontifex Vulgora, Quaestor Valdemar and Consul Valerius."

With a parting wave to me, Portia bows out of the room.

I try to put names to faces as the courtiers rise from their comfortable places.

"You're Sairene?" One of them exclaims, clutching her small hands together. "Oh, oh, you're so cute!"

"How delightful," another says, stepping up. "We were all just talking about you."

"Do sit, Sairene," one of them, dressed head to foot in red, says to me. "With with ME, not with them." Eager manicured hand draw me down onto the couches.

Immediately questions fly at me from all corners of the room.

Th first one who greeted me, Volta I believe, pressed forward. "Our dear Countess only just told us of you! Where did you come from? Were you friends before?"

I smile politely and shake my head. "No. The Countess and I only just met."

"Oh my worm- ahem, I mean word," the one I believe to be Vlastomil, says. "How lucky you are Sairene! A mere apprentice, newly met, and already in the Countess's confidence!"

Nadia arches an eyebrow at Vlastomil, but says nothing.

"Indeed. How very unlike our thoughtful and meticulous Countess." I flinch. Valdemar's voice is soft and chilly, with none of the enthusiasm of the others.

"Perhaps the Countess might tell her _adoring_ court, why she found herself with a witch in her company?" Valerius rounds the couch, looking down his nose at me. He spreads his arms, turning to address the entire room. "Or perhaps the witch might tell us herself?"

I bristle at his tone and fight to keep from sneering right back. "Perhaps I might," I retort.

"Go on," Vulgora says eagerly. "Tell us everything!"

"We've heard only the _gossippe_ ," Vlastomil chimes in."Did the Countess truly come to you in the dead of night, stumbling barefoot, tearing through the streets?"

I pause and purse my lips. I am unnerved by the unblinking eyes staring back at me. "No," I reply, " she just...knocked on my door."

"Please, my poor Countess," Volta wails, "I must know if she was weeping!"

I repress a sigh. "She wasn't."

To my immense relief, Nadia stands from the pipe organ and clears her throat. "Ahem. Sairene is here to assist me with a vitally important matter. I am reopening the investigation into Lucio's murder. Once it has been resolved, I fully intend to hold the Masquerade once more."

Volta squeaks. Vlastomil freezes. Vulgora's nails dig into the silken pink cushion.

"The Masquerade?" Valdemar murmurs beside me. "What a fascinating prospect."

Valerius lets out a long suffering sigh and rolls his eyes. "You mean an utterly _tedious_ one." His drawl cuts through the surprised murmurs, and he fixes Nadia with a cool stare. "Countess, if you wish for a revel to appease the common mob, you have my full support. But reopening the murder investigation is a waste of everyone's time."

Nadia raises an eyebrow, throwing a meaningful look my way. "As Consul, I thought you might be eager to see a resolution to Lucio's murder."

"Julian Devorak is our murderer," Valerius replies, the sureness in his tone sends chills through me and fear through my heart. "Lest you forget, I caught him. I _personally_ extracted his confession." His words paint an unpleasant picture for me and I swallow hard, praying no one looks my way.

"And yet," Nadia replies smoothly, "Dr.Devorak remains at large."

Valerius splutters into his wine glass. "I doubt this _apprentice_ could offer any assistance that I-I mean _we_ could not!" He says, once again looking down at me with disdain and gestures to the other courtiers with a flourish...throwing errant droplets of wine all over my clothes.

The Countess rises to her feet, her eyes flashing.

"Oh dear, how clumsy of me," Valerius feigns remorse. "Well, I am sure Sairene has some magic to remedy this."

"Enough Valerius," Nadia snaps, glaring daggers his way. "You have exhausted my patience. All of you, out."

The courtiers file sheepishly out the door.

I remain with the Countess, who hands me a lovely silken handkerchief. "Honestly, I should have expected such pettiness," she sighs and shakes her head. "They can be quite jealous of anyone who catches my attention." She turns to me, concern clear in her eyes. "But are you alright, Sairene?"

I nod and offer a small smile. "I'm fine. It was only a few drops."

Nadia chuckles softly, moving to sit next to me on the couch. "What a refreshing breath of fresh air you are. Especially in comparison to the Court. Indulge my curiosity Sairene. What did you think of them?"

I think for a moment before I reply. "They're all...um... very unique." To my surprise, Nadia laughs.

"Oh Sairene, you needn't be so delicate with me."

"In that case," I say, a little more confidently. "They're all very strange."

"Agreed," Nadia says and nods. "Though that in and of itself it not suspicious. My late husband brought most of them to the Palace. I often find myself wondering he found such people." She sighs, gazing out the window at the setting sun. "Back in Prakra, I would never have to resort to such theatrics with the Court."

Prakra. A vast land in the North. The Countess's homeland, though I had thought it was only a rumour.

"But I suppose it cannot be helped," she continues softly. "I have made my life here after all."

"Do you ever miss Prakra?" I ask.

For a moment I worry I've overstepped. But the Countess considers me thoughtfully, elegant fingers twisting in her lap. "Perhaps," she replies. "I don't think I would ever return to Prakra, but there are things I miss about my home. Often when I was feeling morose, I would take a walk down to the white beaches of my homeland. The opalescent waves crashing over the sands would soothe my worried soul." The bittersweet expression on her face as she speaks of her homeland makes her look years younger.

In town, there are whispers that Countess Nadia is cold and distant, untouchable in her castle tower. But the woman in front of me seems genuine, kind, and... a little lonely. "Ah, Sairene, forgive me this moment of nostalgia. I am sorry that your conversation with the court was not more illuminating. But if there is any assistance I may offer, or if you wish for some company, you need but ask." She reaches for my hand. Her grip is warm and firm, jasmine perfume lingering in the air before she lets go.

With a swift smile, she sweeps from the room, leaving me to ponder the day's strange events.


	5. The Hierophant

The tea's gone cold, the sun's slowly setting, and I'm still musing over my encounter with the Court. Scribbled notes filled with my lap, summarizing everything I've learned about Lucio's murder so far. My head's starting to spin, and my eyes hurt. Reluctant though I am to abandon the soft cushions, I get to my feet. Maybe I just need some rest, or a brisk walk through the halls-

WHUD! Something slams into the salon window. I rush over and throw the curtains aside. A large, mangy raven pecks on the glass, its feathers distinctly smushed on one side. I hastily open the window. The raven flutters in, horribly out of place among the silken cushions. It hops on top of the organ, scattering sheet music everywhere.

"Hey!" I whisper harshly, "stop that." I try to gently shoo the raven away, but it merely levels a beady eye at me.

And that's when I see the note clutched in its beak. The raven drops the note on top of the organ, ruffles its feathers, and flies away with a harsh screech.

I shuffle the sheet music back in order, then pick up the note. It's barely legible, with many words scribbled out and written over. I squint and make out a few words.

_A masked friend waits for you at the Rowdy Raven. You might think you know the whole story... but you haven't heard my side yet._

There's no signature, and the note ends abruptly... but I think I can guess who it is from.

The sun's almost gone from the sky as I make my way out of the Palace. I take a deep breath and march up to the guards, trying to sound normal. "Excuse me. Where might I find the Rowdy Raven?"

Ludovico and Bludmila exchange a curious look before answering. "Keep going past the docks toward the South End. Can't miss it, you'll hear the ruckus from streets away."With that, they swing the gates open for me.

I keep reading and rereading the note as I hurry into the city. A masked friend. It could be a trap. It could well be a fake. But Julian did say to seek him out when the time came, and I don't have any other leads at present. Following Bludmila's directions, I end up in a narrow, slippery street, its shabby stones layered like scales. Clustered apartments line the passage, and murky reddish water swirls in the sluggish canal.

I take a few wrong turns before I find myself standing behind a noisy tavern. Painted on the door is a cackling blackbird, lying back on a crescent moon. The Rowdy Raven. This is it. Suddenly, the door in front of me swings open, casting warm light down jagged stone steps.

"Oh, I'll be back. Just stepping out for some air."

I freeze mid-step, my heart leaping into my throat. It's really Julian Devorak. He's really here, waiting for me. "Julian?"

He whirls on his heel, his jaw dropping at the sight of me standing in the alleyway. "The shopkeep? What are you..?"

"I got your note."

He blinks at me. "What?"

I brandish the paper. To my surprise, he flushes a deep red.

"Oh. I er, didn't think you would really come," he mumbles, looking anywhere aside from at me. "When that raven flew off with my note, I was half-convinced he'd end up on a guard's pike." He glances over his shoulder, as if expecting to see the scraggly bird appear from nowhere. "But you're here anyway, and I _did_ want to bend your ear. So if you're still interested..."

He beckons me to the door, easing it open and leading me through to the warmth inside. The tavern is packed, and the noise is cacophonous. The barkeep- wide, scar-faced and barrel-armed- gives the doctor a cheeky salute when we pass by. A cackling drunkard swings out a wooden leg, which Julian politely pushes aside. Tutting, my escort guides me to a cozy booth in the back.

"Are you thirsty?' He asks, "my treat of course."

I nod. "I am thirsty, now that I think on it."

Julian beams at me. "Great! I'll be just a moment." He breezes up the bar, leaning his elbow on the counter and chatting amiably with the barkeep. They both erupt into peals of laughter at some joke. In the dim light, he looks perfectly at ease, so different from when I met him at the shop...

He slides into the booth across from me, settling down both our drinks. I peer into the golden liquid in my cup. It smells faintly like fruit. Frowning, I snatch the drink from his spidery fingers and swap it with mine. He blinks as though he can't tell whether he imagined it or not. I hold his gaze as I gulp it down.

The silence between us breaks as he laughs lowly. "Ohohoho very smart. Never trust a free drink."

I raise an eyebrow, he's not wearing a mask here and everyone seems to know him.

"You know," he says softly, looking intently at my face. I feel myself colour under his gaze. "You haven't yet told me your name."

I blink for a moment and then smile shyly. My heart quickens in my chest. "My name is Sairene," I reply simply and watch as myriad of emotions flutter through his eyes.

"Sairene," he repeats my name softly to himself and smiles. "Sairene. A beautiful name. An _enchanting_ name. You can call me Julian, if you like."

Ever so gently and with his gaze still fixed on me, he takes my left hand. My opal ring shimmers in the low lighting. "A white opal," he murmurs. "It has been an age since I have last seen one of those."

"My birthstone," I can't help but say. "It is my favourite ring. Though I do not know why."

A sad smile curves his lips as he swipes his thumb gently over the ring. "As beautiful as it's wearer," he says and keeps my gaze as he kisses my knuckles. The warmth of his touch and that of his lips wakens the butterflies. They take flight from where they are on my back and flutter around my head. I cannot recall the last time they did that. "May I say that it is a pleasure to properly make your acquaintance?"

"The pleasure is all mine," I whisper, tightening my grip on his hand when he makes to let go. After a moment, I remember myself. "You are not worried about being seen?"

Julian laughs and lets go of my hand to lean back in the booth. "Here? Nooo. Folks around here aren't known to, uh, to oblige the wants and wishes of the Palace. Even the raven spends his time scouting for guards. Obsessively, one might say."

I suppose that makes things easier for me too. I clear my throat, looking him dead in the eye. "You said you'd tell me your side of the story."

"Oh, I did, didn't I? How careless of me." He laughs at my incredulous expression. He settles himself proper in the booth, long limbs going every which way. "Alright, then. My story..." His eye falls on a wanted poster of himself, haphazardly plastered beneath the window. Someone's doodled grotesque faces all over the margins. The poster's barely recognizable as him. Julian casually tears the poster loose, peering down at his own likeness. "Hm," he mutters, "they never do seem to get my nose right." He glances up from the poster to me. "Rumour has it that you're investigating Lucio's murder for Countess Nadia."

I nod, and Julian gives me a wry smile.

"So it's true then. Well, I suppose I ought to thank you for not dragging a horde of guards into the Rowdy Raven. You seem like the good sort, Sairene. And after the reading you gave me the other night...If I'm already staring Death in the face, I might as well spill my guts to you." He sighs heavily, gazing at one of the dusty windows. "Where do I even begin? Let's see, how much do you know of the red plague?"

"The plague?" I repeat. "Why, it swept through the city three years ago. A lot of people fell ill, including the Count."

Julian nods, the look in his eye becoming haunted and distant. "Hundreds of people. Thousand of people. It was unlike any disease I've ever seen before. I'm a doctor. I'm supposed to the help the sick," the slam of his fist on the table startles me. "But all I could do was ease their passing and watch them die." The bitterness in his voice silences any questions at the tip of my tongue. Absent mindedly, he reaches for his stein, tossing back the rest of his drink. "When the Count himself fell ill," he continues. "I answered the Palace's call for help. I was grasping at straws by then. Hoping for a miracle. And I wasn't the only one. The Palace's summons attracted all types, including your master, Asra."

I stare at him. "Asra was at the Palace?" A few piece click together in my head. Julian's presence at my shop, and Asra's words when I spoke to him in the fountain.

"He never told you?" Julian asks, genuinely surprised."Hmph. That sounds like Asra. He and I worked together on a cure. We tried everything from spells to leeches, but nothing made a difference." He lapses into silence, staring into his empty stein.

I take a deep breath before I ask. I'm done with beating about the bush. I fold my hands on the table and gather up my nerve. "Did you really do it?"

Julian laughs at my question. Dry and mirthless. "I've asked myself that same question countless times. If I told you the truth, would you even believe me? I know I wouldn't. But I'll let you decide for yourself, Sairene." 

He steeples his fingers, leaning over his long legs to finally look me in the eye. "Did I do it...did I murder the Count? What if I told you I don't remember?"

Silence falls between us.

"What?" I finally manage to ask.

"I know, I know," he chuckles. "Just what you'd expect a slippery rogue like me to say. But it's true, my memory of that night is gone. Every time I try to remember what happened that night, there is nothing but a formless void."

My heart hammers in my chest. That sounds so very familiar, almost like-

The windowpane rattles ominously next to our booth and Julian jumps about a foot into the air. "What was that?"

The barkeep throws an unconcerned look over his mugs. "Not loud enough to be the guards," he calls over to us. "Go back to yer drinks."

Julian still looks jumpy. "I'm going to go take a look," he whispers to me. "Coming?" When I nod, he leads me out a back door, barely distinguishable from the grimy wall, and into the alley. It's getting cold and the sun's set completely. Julian casts a quick glance up and down the alley. His shoulders relax ever so slightly. "Coast looks clear," he informs me with a roguish grin. "I guess I've just gotten used to glancing over my shoulder." But his broad grin only takes a second to fade, before shock takes over his features.

I turn, looking carefully over my shoulder.

It's Portia, half-hidden behind some discarded boxes. Did she follow me here? But I might as well not be here at all. All of Portia's focus, the suspended disbelief in her wide eyes, is on the man beside me. When she finally speaks, the word that escapes her sounds different, an unused voice from the depths of her heart. "Ilya?"

Portia runs forward. I back into the shadowy doorway as she throws herself at the doctor. "Ilya?! Is it really you?" Her shaking hands come to either side of his face. His eyes start to shine.

"It's me," is all he says.

I'm frozen, silent with shock and confusion. They know each other?"

"You-you-you bastard! What are you doing here? Out in the open? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Portia's fingers curl, tugging at his ears and drawing a shameful wince.

"You've grown up strong, Pasha," he says softly. "I'm...sorry I wasn't there to see it."

"Ohh, I'll show you sorry," Portia snaps, the tears not yet abating. "You unbelievable- Sairene?!" All the colour drains from her face when our eyes meet. She releases Julian's ears and seizes his collar, tugging him away from the Rowdy Raven. "I-I...I'll see you later!" Without further ado, she hauls the floundering doctor down the alley.

I take a few hesitant steps after them, but the alley quickly twists off into darkness. The two of them are nowhere to be seen, and I don't know the South End very well. Maybe it would be better to head back to the Palace, and talk to Portia tomorrow.

I turn on my heel and start making my way- And run into a bare chest. For a moment I'm confused, mind trying to catch up. It's funny, but...doesn't this seem familiar, somehow? Like I know this feeling...

"C-can you move?" A massive stranger fills the alley, blushing a bright red that reaches the tips of his ears.

I blink, and then stumble back, an apology on my lips. "S-sorry! Didn't see you there."

"Good." The stranger rumbles before he turns to leave.

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm reaching out to grasp his cloak. "Wait!

Reluctantly, he pauses, turning slowly back towards me. His eyes don't meet mine. "What?"

The earthy scent of myrrh clings to the stranger, noticeable in this dark, damp street. Something about him is achingly familiar, but we've never met before, have we? "Do I...know you?"

With a heavy, heartfelt sigh, he turns back to face me fully.

I stare helplessly. Is this someone I used to know? Someone from my long-forgotten past? Faced with my silence, the stranger sits on a stack of oak barrels, which creak ominously. For the first time, those dark green eyes meet mine. "Why are you going back there?" His hand tightens on the sack he's clutching, and his eyes dart up and down the street.

"Going back where?" I ask.

"The Palace," the stranger replies.

I frown a little. It's hard to discern his meaning when he refuses to say more than a handful of words. "Why wouldn't I go back there? It's my job."

"There are...it's dangerous there.," he says, "bad omens." A shiver runs through his massive hands, and he nearly drops the sack. He draws a deep, shaky breath, clearly struggling with each word. "There's...a monster."

A chilling memory surfaces in my mind. Goatish face, eyes like cinders, and onyx claws. Then the rumours Portia mentioned are true, and my dream was more than just a dream. "I think I've already seen it," I admit softly.

"What? You-you saw-," the huge figure shakes his head emphatically. Chains rattle beneath layers of heavy furs. "And you didn't run away?" Despite his harsh words, he keeps sneaking worried glances at me from under his mop of hair. As the silence becomes unbearable, he mutters something under his breath.

"What was that?" I ask, curious.

The stranger lifts his head, pointing down the alley toward my neighborhood. "Never mind," he says, "just go home."

I will not be dissauded so easily. "How did you know about the ghost?"

He sighs heavily. "I wish I didn't."

I shake my head. "That's not an answer."

The stranger heaves another deep, heartfelt sigh. "Asra."

"Wait, you know Asra?" I say, eyes wide with surprise.

He nods once, slowly, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. "Better than anyone." The rumbling voice sounds irritated, but the answer is sincere. I wonder why Asra never mentioned him before. But I suppose he doesn't come across as much of a social butterfly.

I smile at him. He just stares at the pavement beneath my feet, resolutely avoiding my eyes. "What's your name?"

"Muriel," he says and my smile widens.

"Hello, Muriel. I'm Sairene."

Muriel shuffles his huge feet, looking like he'd love to just vanish on the spot. "Okay," he says at last. "Go home now."

I shake my head. He keeps telling me to go home, but, "I can't just go home," I tell him. "The Countess asked me to help her." The ghost, the Count's murder, the upcoming Masquerade, they're all connected somehow. And like it or not, I've been pulled into the shadowy web.

Muriel sighs and mumbles something under his breath, pointing in the direction of the Palace.

"Sorry?" I try, shrugging my shoulders.

"I'll walk you to the Palace. If you're going back. Which you shouldn't." He shudders, chains rattling beneath his cloak.

I smile as reassuringly as I can. "I'll be fine on my own," I say, "but thank you."

Muriel's huge shoulders visibly slump with relief. "....Okay."

"Will I see you again?"

"Doesn't matter," he rumbles. "Bye." I watch as Muriel disappears between the buildings, into the darkness.

What am I doing by myself in this alley? I stepped out with Julian, saw Portia, and then...

It's already so late. I need to get back to the Palace as soon as I can. I rush out to the main street and hail a carriage. A light rain starts to lash the windows on my ride back.

The Palace glitters like a white monolith against the twinkling night sky. Once more, the guards open the gates and bow me through. Once more, I walk through the doors, my mind spinning with even more questions than ever...


	6. The Lovers: Red in the water

I tossed and turned for hours last night, questions tumbling through my mind. In an attempt to wake myself up, I decided to go for a short walk through the gardens. The morning sunlight is warm on my skin, and the air is full of birdsong. I take a deep breath and sigh.

"Oh, come on. I really need to get in there!" .....Was that Portia? It sounds like she's having an argument, though I can't quite hear the other party involved. "Please," she says again, "you're really trying my patience here."

_"HOW DARE YOU? DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!"_ I hear the second voice as I get closer to the commotion. It's a shrill shriek that pierces even the heavy foliage still blocking my view.

"Yes, yes, I know," Portia snaps back. "I swear to everything above that if you don't move, I'll have roast cockatoo for dinner!"

Gnarled branches are the only thing that obscure my sight now. I pass a final tree, and emerge into a small clearing. Settled squat in the middle of the copse is a squished looking cottage, surrounded by an overflowing garden.

"That's it! Pepi, honey... get 'em!" A seal point cat with a pudgy face and round eyes hops onto Portia's shoulder, batting at the a pure white cockatoo. The bird is pacing on the roof of a small work shed, shrieking and nipping at Portia as she tries to enter. A particularly well-aimed swipe from the cat dislodges the bird, sending it flying.

It clips Portia's head with its wing in its escape, muttering in anger at it undignified treatment. "They'll never forget me. They'll never survive without me!"

"Oooh, that awful bird," Portia mutters to her cat. "He makes me so MAD, Pepi." Her eyes widen as she catches sight of me at the garden's edge. "Sairene! Umm, fancy seeing you here." Her cheeks colour in embarrassment. She smooths her apron and quickly recovers, smiling at me. "I'm surprised you managed to find this place. It's a little off the beaten path."

I look around me with a small smile. "Just where are we exactly?"

"Oh! How rude of me," she says and clears her throat before spreading one arm out to show off the cottage. "Welcome to Casa de Portia. My own little oasis on the palace grounds. Just watch out for the graspgourds. They're a little feisty today." A curious vine grasps at her ankle as she says that, but she swiftly kicks it away. "Why don't you have a seat, Sairene? It must have been quite the walk to get here, huh?" 

She gestures to a bench carved out of a large log that rests against the exterior of the cottage. I pick my way carefully through the overgrown garden to the seat, stepping over fantastic plants I can't even name. Portia picks up a rake from nearby, and looks at me with a wry smile. "You don't mind me working a little while we talk, do you? I've got a lot of work in the garden today."

Now that I'm settled, I realise that I have a million questions to ask Portia. I take a deep breath and launch right into it. "So....Julian's your brother?"

If I wasn't certain before, I am now. The naked shock and hurt on Portia's face tells me all I need to know. "Yes," she replies softly. "I'm sorry about that scene outside the Rowdy Raven, you know. I was just so surprised to see him there."

"I was too," I murmur.

"He's got a real flair for the dramatic though," she add, smiling widely. "I'm glad to see that hasn't changed."

"You really didn't know he was here?" I ask, leaning forward slightly.

Portia shakes her head and leans against her rake. "Not until I saw him yesterday," she replies. "Whatever he thinks he's doing here....Anyway, I'm sorry I didn't smack him a little harder for the trouble," she says, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, he could be in huge trouble."

Luckily the mood doesn't stay heavy for long. Portia waves it away and squares her shoulders, giving me a determined smile. "I didn't know you two knew each other. Did that happen before or after milady hired you?" She asks with a wink.

My cheeks flush, though not from the scrutiny of her gaze. "I first met Julian the night Countess visited my shop," I admit softly, unable to stop the small smile that curves my lips. "He arrived shortly after she left." I can still recall his gentle voice as he encouraged me to read for him.

"Hmm," Portia mutters. "That sure sounds like my brother." She peers closely at me, "why didn't you say so to milady?"

The look on Portia's face is not unkind. I feel as though I can tell her anything without consequence. "I would hate to condemn a man without all the information," I reply and take a shuddering breath. The memory of Julian, bathed in the golden lights of the tavern come to the forefront of my memory. The tender way he spoke my name to himself, as though it were some great treasure. The way he held my hand and kissed my knuckles in a manner that could only be described as reverent. The look in his eyes when he saw my opal ring. Such sad, beautiful eyes did not belong to a cold hearted killer. Absently and in the spirit of the memory, I look down and trace the shape of the opal.

"You wear so many rings," Portia observes softly. "While I am sure you like all of them, is one your favourite?" 

I nod and lovingly caress that ring. "This one," I reply. "Though I do not know why. Master Asra says it is because it is my birthstone. I have had it for as long as I can remember."

"An opal is your birthstone?" Portia asks, intrigued.

"Aye," I say. "But the white one is my most favourite variant of the gem. Master says that sometimes, when the light is right, my hair matches it."

"I would very much agree with him," she says, grinning. "Your hair reminds me of pearls. Soft and not quite white, but with all the colours of the rainbow."

"Thank you," I murmur, feeling my cheeks colour.

"Those butterflies that flitter around you, I have never seen their like before."

I laugh softly. "They only come alive when I am happy or content. Otherwise they remain on my back."

"On your back?" Portia asks, mildly confused. "They are magic?"

"In a manner of speaking," I say. "Yes. I have an illustration of them on my back."

"And you are happy now? Content?"

"As much as I can be in my current position," I say and look down at my hands that rest in my lap. "I do not wish to carry the weight of another's life in my hands," I admit softly. "It is too much. If it is truly my words that knot the hangman's noose.." I shudder at the image those words evoke. "How can I possibly send a man to his death before I have fully investigated his innocence?" I ask desperately.

"I am glad to hear you say that, Sairene," Portia replies and lays a hand atop my own trembling ones. "In truth, I do not really know what mess Ilya's gotten himself into, but," she pauses and offers me a reassuring smile. "If he has you in his corner, I get the feeling that everything will work out alright in the end."

"I hope so," I whisper and try to smile back, though it wobbles at the edges. "Portia?"

"Hmm?"

I squeeze the hand holding mine. "Thank you," I say, sincerity in every word.

"Of course!" She replies and winks, smiling. "That's what I'm here for, you know. Pep talks and expert gardening skills." Looking up at the sky, she gasps softly. "Oh my, it's getting pretty late huh?" She peers overhead at the sun, already well past noon. Late light dapples the clearing, dancing on her face. "I'd better get back to work, Sairene. But...I'm glad you came to talk to me. I knew we'd be friends eventually." 

With the sun at my back, I turn from Portia's garden, head swirling with thoughts of Julian and his predicament. Strangely enough though, I feel more at ease after speaking with Portia. The trials ahead of me seem less insurmountable.

I decide to take another route back to the Palace, wandering aimlessly through the ancient foliage. The further I get from Portia's cottage, the darker the sky above me grows. That's strange... it should only be mid-afternoon. The Palace's soaring spires emerge from the top of the trees, and the rest of the gleaming building soon follows.

Thick foliage opens up to rolling fields, cut across with a nearby brook that slithers through the grass. At first my eyes pass over it, before the colour registers and fills my stomach with dread. There is no mistaking it. Red stains the slow-moving stream, seeping steadily into the banks. With trepidation, I make to follow the flow upstream with my eyes. Seeping from the stonework of a forgotten corner of the Palace, is an ominous crimson.

It would be easy to miss. The brook is small, tucked away on the side of the Palace I imagine is not patrolled all too regularly. I turn back to the garden in horror, and realise with dawning dread what the source of the darkness truly is. Rot and decay. The trees at the edge of the field are dying. It seems as if all the colour has been leeched out of them. I swallow hard, and resolve to follow the stream to its end. With heavy, almost reluctant feet, I start the long journey along its banks.

Soon, vast open fields give way to rocky cliffside, and the stream transitions to lemonstone structure. An aqueduct. Only one of the many flowing into the city, designed to carry water to its many citizens.

Overhead, a raven circles me. One that I feel I recognise. It swoops lower as I continue along the bank. Recognition slams into me. Isn't that the very same raven that brought me Julian's note? The raven lands with a dull thud on my shoulder and tilts its head at me.

"Hello there," I greet softly.

The raven opens its mouth as though to scream, but simply nibbles on the hem of my shirt instead. Its beady eyes never leave my face, watching me warily. In fact, now that I notice it, all its feathers are ruffled, as if it was on high alert. I open my mouth to say something else, but a noise startles the raven into flight, leaving me alone once again.

Eventually, the aqueduct begins to lower and then joins with another water line, both are headed deeper into the city. I can see buildings around me now, the first signs of urban life, as I reach the outskirts. There is no longer any doubt in my mind. The crimson running from the Palace grounds is in the city's water supply.

"Sairene?"

I whip my head to the right, and see a figure slowly emerge into the dim light of a city lantern. Face half cast in shadow, standing on the aqueduct with me, is Julian.


	7. The Lovers: A Gift and a Curse

"Julian?" I say, equally as surprised to see him as he is to see me.

He stands at the edge of the aqueduct, a dark silhouette framed by the light of the moon. Behind him, the city towers like a behemoth, a chaotic sprawl of buildings stacked atop each other. In his hands is a mask with a long, curved beak that he turns slowly, like he's contemplating what to do with it.

"Sairene," he says again and looks up to meet my eyes. "Fancy seeing you here, hm? Out for a night walk?"

He sighs, gaze dropping to the reservoir pool below us. The red of his coat reflects and refracts in the water, splashes of crimson dancing against each other. "Me? I was just, thinking I suppose. Funny, fickle thing, life, isn't it?"

Fear floods me at his proximity to the water. "Should you be standing so close to the water?" I ask, barely able to keep the worry out of my voice.

"What? This water? It's harmless, Sairene," he says and smiles softly at me, the expression warm in the dim lighting. "Or as harmless as it can be. It won't do anything to me. Or anything to anyone, anymore. Sure, a few people might get sick if they go for a swim in it, but isn't it a miracle? They went and figured it all out. Or even outlasted it. I wonder how they managed it." Pausing, he sighs heavily. "It's no matter, though, I suppose. Life always finds a way, doesn't it? The plague is over."

He casts a forlorn look at the mask in his hands. "And so is my career, I'm afraid. What use is a plague doctor if there's no plague?" A glimmer enters his eyes. "Its like a Count with no city! Or a barkeep with no drinks." He extends his arm out with a flourish. A piece of hair falls into his good eye, obscuring it. "So here I am," he declares. "Throwing away the last piece of a past I can't reclaim. Pity, isn't it? Ah well."

He glances down to the mask once more, and then lets it drop into the water below. Pale slithering shapes move to swarm around it the moment it hits the surface.

Shaking his head, he looks up and meets my eyes. The warmth in them takes my breath away. I am left speechless, even as he steps closer to me, only stopping a hair's breath away.

"Julian," I say at last, though it comes out as more of a breathy whisper.

"Hush," he says softly and lays a gloved finger on my lips. "I can scarcely believe myself to be in your presence once more. Your face, your voice, why even your name has haunted me since last we spoke."

I stare up at him, the emotions evoked by his words are new to me, and yet, familiar at the same time.

"That ring you wear," he murmurs, keeping hold of my gaze. "The white opal bound in silver. It is a promise, is it not?" He asks me, a strange desperation in his eye. "A promise you made."

"What promise?" I whisper, wanting desperately to comb my hands through his unruly hair. "Tell me, for I do not know it myself."

"Are you not bound to another?" He asks, "a promise to be his?"

"No," I whisper in return, realisation dawning. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I ask, "would it pain you if I was? If I had promised to wed another man, would you disdain it?"

Julian says nothing, he merely looks at me as though memorising my every feature. "Would it be wrong of me," he says at last. "If I did indeed despise that idea? That despite our very short acquaintance, the very thought of you in the arms of another man brings me more pain than I have felt in a long while."

"No more than it would me," I reply, fighting sudden tears. "You say I have haunted you? That I have not left you in peace since our last meeting?"

He nods silently.

I draw closer to him, our breaths mingling, our noses almost touching despite our difference in height. "Then you have done the same for me, Julian Devorak." He shudders lightly as his name falls from my lips. "I see you everywhere."

With a small gasp, he snakes an arm 'round my waist and pulls me against his chest. "Oh Sairene," he rasps throatily. "My beautiful siren. Would I drown if I were to kiss you?" 

"There is but one way to find out," I reply and feel my heartbeat shoot to the sky as his lips near mine.

The raven from my earlier walk cuts through the moment with a ragged screech, nearly flying into us in its frenzy.

"Guards afoot, Sairene! Look lively, we'd best make tracks."

We both leap into action at the same time, running further down the aqueduct to reach the street. My hand slips from his as my foot slips on a wet stone, thus tumbling me backwards into the reservoir below.

Darkness engulfs me as I'm swallowed up by the deep reservoir. The impact alone knocks my breath away. I struggle against the cold water, kicking frantically up to the surface. As I thrash however, something moves against me. Something slippery and sleek as it latches onto my side. A pained gasp escapes me, sending water down my throat and into my lungs.

"Sairene!" Julian calls from above, fear lacing every word as he sees the creature latched onto my side. His hand grips my wrist through the water as he tugs me out, the undulating creature still attached to me.

Looking down, I can see my own blood moving through its translucent innards as it continues to feast.

I am only vaguely aware of Julian taking hold of the creature. "On the count of three," he says, "One. Two-" his grip on the creature's head forces it to open its mouth and release me before he tosses it back into the water. "Three. Up you go, then," he says to me, reaching out to help me stand. "Easy now. I have you."

Every gasp shoots a bolt of pain through me as I stumble away from the reservoir, sopping wet and slipping on the cobblestones. Julian half drags me as we begin to run. I absently watch my own blood stain the puddles I leave behind.

"Can you stand?" Julian asks me urgently, pausing in the shadow of a building to peer down at me. I struggle to hold onto his arm, shaking and tremendously dizzy, every breath a pain rasp. "Right, foolish question," he mutters to himself and hefts me up, cradling me against him. My blood soon stains his jacket, yet he does not seem to mind.

Soon we collapse in a deserted alley in a wet, exhausted heap.

Still holding me against him, Julian looks down at me and meets my unfocused eyes. "Let me see that bite." My head bobs ambiguously. Whatever words I try to form are stuck behind my teeth. Smiling grimly, he gently shifts me so that I am laying on my back. "I shall have to take that as a yes." With those words, he carefully slides up my torn blouse so the fabric does not stick to the wound. It oozes steadily. 

I can do nothing but stare at the sky above me while his practiced hands work over my abdomen. "The bleeding won't stop," he mutters to himself. "Damn." He draws back with a look of extreme displeasure and starts peeling off his gloves.

My heartbeat leaps a the sight of the murderer's brand, stark and irreversible on the back of his left hand. Yet despite it and the rumours surrounding him, I feel no fear in his presence. Only a strange sense of security. I can't however, suppress a shudder as he lays the other hand, ice-cold, over my open wound.

"Hold still," he says gently, his branded hand cupping the back of my head, keeping it from the cold ground.

I hold still, focusing on wrestling with unconsciousness, the tender, soothing patterns he traces against my skull only aid in my exhaustion.

"Deep breaths. This will only take a minute or two."

Realising that I am not in any pain, a wave of profound relaxation washes over me. I attempt a smile as our eyes meet. "We have to stop meeting like this."

Julian lets out a bark of laughter, and presses a hand to my forehead, checking my temperature. "If you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to sit." He helps me to sit up with a hand on my back, steadying me. My head swims with the change in altitude. "At least I wasn't breaking and entering this time," he says and returns my smile. "I will admit, I was surprised to see you in the neighborhood. You certainly have some some kind of luck...."

I follow his gaze as his words trail off. I swallow hard at the sight we're both staring at. The aqueduct is much higher than I'd thought. I turn back to him and immediately drawn to a magic mark glowing under the skin of his throat. I narrow my eyes. Its design looks somehow familiar.

Julian catches me staring. A shadow passes over his countenance. "Ah. Do you recoognise your Master's handiwork?" He asks bitterly.

I watch in morbid fascination as fresh blood blossoms under his clothing.

"This was his parting gift to me," he bites out, "a curse. I am able to take away bodily wounds, as you can see. And in return, I get to experience them for myself..ugh." He sways forward and I swallow at the sight of the blood, now running freely down his torso. "It won't last," he continues, but in a much softer tone. "It never does. A curse from a witch who fears commitment. But then again," he pauses and looks down at the oozing wound. "I have never been bitten by a vampire eel before. This could be very interesting."

"Interesting?" I repeat in a whisper, eyes glued to the wound. "How?"

He allows me to assist in peeling away his jacket. "Well," he says, grunting at the pain. "Fate seems to keep inventing new ways to test the limits of this body."

"Now that _does_ sound interesting," I murmur.

"Oh, it certainly can be."

We hear them coming almost a moment too late. The guards, doing their rounds of the outer walls. Julian curses, pulling me into an alley nearby. His body presses against mine as we crowd into the narrow alley, boxing me up against the wall. I can hear the Countess's guards run by, and pray their eyes slide over us in the darkness. This close I can see the pain painted on Julian's face. His eye is fixed behind me, but as if he senses my gaze, it moves to mine.

For a moment, we both stare at each other.

"Sairene-" Just as he's about to say something, we hear a thud from the entrance to the alley. "Not the time. Let's go." With that, he grabs my hand and tugs me out of the alley, breaking into a run. The city passes us by in a blur as we evade capture, weaving around buildings with ease.

We're moving so fast, I almost don't see it. There, nestled between two tall buildings, a garden. A thick padlock set in the rusted iron gate blocks our way inside. It would make the perfect hiding spot. Julian picks up speed, and my hand threatens to slip from his. If I'm going to act, it has to be now.

I don't know if he's listening right now, so I pull hard on his hand and tug us toward the garden. He quickly catches onto my intention, and helps me climb over the top of the gate. I land rather unceremoniously, and Julian drops down next to me with light feet. Just in time, I hear the guards run past as we slip into the cover of the vines.

Julian helps me to my feet and dusts of my clothes as we catch our breath. The still silence of the garden swallows up any sounds from the street. I feel transported to another realm. It looks as though it has been abandoned for years, the plants left to fend for themselves. Ivy covers what once must have been beautiful, obscuring wise marble faces and savage stone beasts.

We step around the roots that have overtaken the cracked stone floor, settling by a dilapidated fountain.

"Look at this place!" Julian breathes in wonder. "Ha, that was some quick thinking on your part, Sairene. Looks like you have a knack for discovering hidden beauty." He turn toward me and spreads his arm out in an expansive gesture, hand slipping from mine. "I wonder how many parts of the city have fallen to neglect like this, hm?" He makes his way carefully over to one of the grotesque statues, stepping over the vines that block his path. "Ahh, and look at this brute. Hello there, handsome." He wraps an arm around the bull statue's muscular shoulders, turning back to me with delight in his eyes. "Dangerous looking creature isn't he?"

I can't help the smile that spreads over my lips. "I like a little danger," I say as I pick my way over to the statue as well, staring up into its stone face. It almost seems to be regarding me.

"Ohhh? I shouldn't be surprised," Julian says and waggles his eyebrows. "Sairene, it seems you are simply brimming with hidden depths. But tell me," his tone becomes serious. "Do you really mean that? You're certainly brave, it's true. But do you know what you're really getting into?"

I have a feeling that there's something more to Julian's question. I raise an eyebrow, "isn't not knowing what makes it exciting?"

Julian chuckles lowly, eliciting a different warmth within me. "Oh, I wouldn't say that's the _most_ exciting thing about it. Ah, hold still Sairene." He reaches slowly forward, and plucks a flower off of my shoulder. It must have fallen from the luminous trees above us. It glows a bright, vivid blue in the dark, star shaped petals curling to close as he touches it. He offers the flower to me, a quirk to his lips as he twirls it in his fingers.

I reach out to take it, but Julian stops me, shaking his head and pulling back just slightly. "Ah ah ah," he tuts, "careful, Sairene. There is poison in these petals."

I stare down at the fragile, unfamiliar flower in his hand. "What is it called?"

His smile is positively roguish in the soft light. "Deadly starstrand. A single drop of poison distilled from this flower could kill a babe in its crib. It's killed tyrants and kings, innocent and guilty. It could topple entire empires with a careless hand." He offers it to me once more, gazing eagerly into my eyes. "Do you still want it?"

I hesitate, ring-clad fingers hovering over the flower, and then shake my head. "Are you okay, Julian?" I ask softly, worry seeping into my voice. "You're acting all weird."

"W-what? Why would anything be wrong?" He asks and smirks at me. "I'm perfectly fine, Sairene. No, no. I'm better than fine. I'm fantastic."

He leans forward, looking into my eyes, and takes both my hands in his. "After all," he whispers, lowering his mouth closer to mine. His breath brushes over my lips as he speaks. "Here I am, in a beautiful garden with you. Who wouldn't be delighted by such wonderful company?" He rubs a thumb over my knuckles, a smile dancing over his lips.

"I just, I know I thanked you," I mumble, feeling my face flush delicately under his gaze. "But it doesn't feel like enough." I gently squeeze his hands. "You got hurt because of me."

"Trust me, Sairene," he replies gently. "Better I hurt in your stead and besides, you're much more fragile than I am."

I laugh at the unexpected jab, the sound echoing against the garden walls and up into the night. He presses closer, hand sliding up my forearm and leans his head impossibly closer. "Careful, Sairene," he whispers. "The guards will hear you." His lips barely brush against mine as he breathes the warning, breath mingling with the heat in my cheeks.

A cascade of warmth spreads through my entire being. All I can think of is the space still left between us. Julian lifts a hand to cup my cheek, thumb running over my jaw in a rough sweep. I can feel his lips part to speak, the first rumble of a word escaping into the air. "I-"

We're interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps quickly approaching. A scowl passes over Julian's face. "Right on time. Let's leave before our guests arrive, hm?"

With the garden's sanctity compromised, Julian takes my hand roughly and tugs me out to the street once more. He leads me deeper into more questionable areas of the city, taking wild turns to evade our pursuers. He seems to know the area like the back of his hand- or at least, all the relevant escape routes.

We approach a dilapidated residence at the outskirts of the district. A few chicken peter around its yard.

"In we go, Sairene!" He says and without further warning, he clamors through an open window round the back, pulling me in after him.


	8. The Lovers: Laying Low

We creep in through the window into the humid hut, ducking under a row of brass bells that are just close enough to make them hum. Julian hauls me in, steadying me at the waist, arm lingering around me as his gaze travels the room. The hut is wide, the ceiling low. His hair is dry now, brushing the ceiling and showering his shoulders in dirt.

"Mazelinka?" He calls, peering further into the house. "Sorry to drop in like this, it's the guards- Mazelinka?" He stops for a moment when only silence answers him. "Huh, I don't know if she's home."

Craning my neck, I look up at him with narrowed eyes. "Did we just break in?"

Julian sighs and nods. "We did, we did, but desperate times call for dubious measures. Well, in any case, she seems to be out. Lucky for us," he shoots me a grin, "she doesn't like it when I come through the window..." his voice trails off before his eye widens as he seems to remember something. "Ohh, the window, no, did we step on the..?" He looks over my shoulder to the curly tendrils of yellow flowers looking ragged where they sprout from the windowsill. Their petals furl and unfurl, grasping curiously after us. I don't think I've ever seen a plant like it.

"Oh look at that," Julian mutters, groaning. "We stepped on the dragon's breath. I'm in for an earful." He drags a hand across his face when the door starts to rattle, a grunt from outside as it's shaken free from the crooked frame.

"Ilya!...Did you come in the window again, you slippery boy?" A small quick figure shuffles through the doorway, swathed in a thick shawl.

Julian straightens too quickly, striking his head against the ceiling with a wince. Undeterred, he sweeps down to offer his arm, dipping for a kiss on the cheek. "Ah, Mazelinka, aren't you a sigh for the sore eye! Love the shawl, is it new?" He schmoozes, winking.

"Oh you know it isn't," Mazelinka tuts, shaking her head and good naturedly batting him away. "I thought you might be about when I saw the guards...oh?" She trails off as her sharp gaze lands on me where I stand slightly behind Julian. She blinks up at me through wisps of wiry hair. There is a look in her eye that I can't quite figure out. "Who do we have here?" She asks softly.

Clearing his throat, Julian steps to my side. "This is Sairene, a new friend of mine."

On instinct I hold out a hand, her own calloused one takes a firm hold of it. "Hello," I reply, offering a shy smile. She returns the smile and looks briefly to Julian before returning her attention to me.

"Sairene hey?" She says and makes to say something further when the light of the small fire in the hearth catches on my plethora of rings. That strange, distant, almost sad look reenters her eyes as she zeroes in on the white opal. After a moment, she shakes herself and grins up at me. "A new friend hey?" She chuckles. "Make yourself comfortable, Sairene."

Our host moves into the kitchen, squawking at the state of the yellow flowers by the window.

Julian flies to her side and instantly begins to apologise. "Ah, Mazelinka, I did that. I take full responsibility for that, I wasn't thinking and I-"

"Don't fit through the door," Mazelinka finishes for him and nods, sighing. "I know fetch the round pot for me, will you?"

Julian blinks, nodding and moving to a cupboard set in the dirt wall behind him. There is a sway in his step, and when our eyes meet, his smile is weary. My first thought is the bite he took from me. He said it wouldn't last, but his gaze is lingering strangely on me, dazed.

As Julian reaches for the cupboard, I place my hand over his. His hazy eye flutters wide open. I move him aside, and grab the pot myself, fixing him with a firm stare. "Show me the bite," I whisper.

He blinks at me before seeming to register my words. "The...? Oh, the bite. You want to see?" When I nod and with a furtive glance to our host, he unfastens his jacket at the bottom and lifts the bloodied shirt underneath. "What do you think? Good as new?"

Mesmerised, I reach out and let my fingers dance lightly over where the wound once was. I don't miss the minute shudder that ripples through him at my touch. I turn my attention back to where the bite was supposed to be. The skin of his waist is perfectly smooth. I can hardly tell where the bite was in the first place.

"Are you impressed?" He asks, looking down at me, smirking lightly at the blush that colours my cheeks. "It's your Master's magic, shouldn't be a big surprise for you."

I furrow my brow at his words. Have I ever seen Asra use magic like this? While I am caught trying to recall, the cauldron is whisked from my grasp. Julian spirits it over to the fireplace, and I follow, curious. That is no ordinary pot.

Mazelinka rolls a dry sprig of purple herb between her thumb and forefinger, sniffing it and clicking her tongue. "Ech, worrywort's gone stale. I've more in the garden, pardon me, Sairene." With that, our host grabs hold of a rusty knife and weaves around us to the door, humming, leaving us alone together.

The moment she's gone however, Julian slumps against the counter, leaning heavily on one arm. "Huh," he huffs out and lets his head drop to hang between his broad shoulders. "Who would have thought that a bite like that would take so much out of me. Not to belittle your bite, mind you," he adds hurriedly. "I've treated a few dozen, unfortunately you're the first to make it. Well, you and I." His gaze as he lifts his head is soft in the flickering light, until a shadow crosses his brow, and he looks away. "They're not aggressive, the eels. And they wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the...the Count."

The Count. The murder. A chill runs down my limbs, reminding me all too vividly why we are in hiding. Across from me, Julian stills, watching me closely. Until I know, I will never even begin to understand him. Until I ask. I take a breath and marshal my courage. "Have you really forgotten?" I ask, my hands itching to take hold of his, just a short distance away.

His wide eye fixes on the floor, pulse jumping at his temple. Then he looks at the ceiling, but not at me. His chest shakes with low, nervous laughter. "I'm sorry," he says a moment later, "it's just that I'm always asking myself that question. But when you say it," here he pauses and finally looks at me, smiling softly. "It is much less irritating. But yes, I'm afraid I really have forgotten."

"Then why did you confess?" I ask, linking my twitching hands together, my rings clinking softly.

"Ah," he sighs. "If only you knew...but some things in life are complicated. How about we leave it at that?"

I blink. I can't just leave it at that, considering it's my job to investigate the murder. Julian leans toward me, either drawn by my rapt curiosity, or perhaps to keep me from asking any more. One gloved hand reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from my face and gently tucks it behind my ear, his hand lingering for a moment longer on my cheek. The warmth of his hand is inviting and strangely comforting and I soon find myself leaning into the chaste touch.

"Oh Sairene," he murmurs, his eye flicking down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my eyes once more. His breath whispers over my lips as he lowers his mouth to mine. They are a mere hair's breath away when we are startled apart by our host.

"Ilya, you're barely on two feet," she scolds. "When is the last time you slept?"

Shooting to his feet, Julian turns to fully face her. "As, well, ever since the curse I don't really need it the way I used to, dear."

"Says who?" Mazelinka scoffs, shaking her head. "Your eye is rolling. Curse shmurse."

Julian drops his gaze to the floor, to my feet. It trails up my face, and Mazelinka raises a steely brow. "I'm fine, really," he mumbles, already fighting a yawn. "Haven't felt this good in ages."

Mazelinka sighs, tossing a handful of sand into the cauldron and stirs. "I'll be very happy for you after you've rested. Go on, shoo!"

It's a moment before he replies, the look he fixes me with has my butterflies flying circles around my head. "Just until the soup is done," he mutters. His eye wanders my features in a slow, thorough path, as though fixated. Or maybe it's the exhaustion.

"Just until the soup is done," Mazelinka repeats his words, chortling. "Well? Will you survive that long without her?"

"I'll survive," he says softly and as he moves towards a nearby curtain, he pauses as he passes me to slide his hand into mine. As if on instinct, I lace our fingers together and give a soft squeeze. "You'll have to excuse me, Sairene. You're in good company." His fingertips brush my palm as he pulls away, disappearing behind the curtain.

I look over to Mazelinka and find her watching me curiously before she cracks her well-worn knuckles with a billowing sigh. "He won't do it," she tells me, casting a fond look over at the curtain. "He'll be pacing around unless someone pins him to the bed. One of us needs to keep an eye on the brew, though...hmmm. Sairene, you're the guest. Would you rather watch him, or shall I?"

My host arches a brow and watches me expectantly over the bubbling pot. I clear my throat with a delicate cough. "I'll keep an eye on the pot," I reply softly, though my eyes keep straying to the partition. I force myself to look away and back to my smiling host.

"Will you? You're a dear," she says and pats my hand as I step closer. Chuckling, my host draws up a ladle of boiling golden brew, appraising it with a sniff. "Not much longer," she murmurs thoughtfully.

She moves to accommodate me, and I take up the ladle, staring into the swirling pot. I hear her rustle through the partition, muffled squabbling and I fight to keep from laughing. It isn't long before she returns, sipping from the ladle and sighing.

"That ought to do it." She fills a bowl and disappears with it past the curtain. There is a louder fuss this time. When she returns again, she fills the empty bowl, pouring it out over the yellow flowers on the windowsill. Their grasping movements slow until they curl up to rest, spiraling and tucking their petals away. "There we are," she sighs happily and turns to me. "Now, Sairene, I imagine you'll be needing a place to sleep. There's a bed in there, with him," she gestures behind her. "And there's the one down here," she points to the floor and pulls aside a dusty rug to reveal a rusty doorpull in the floor. She hefts it open with a grunt.

"The hiding hole," she explains. "I'm happy to sleep down here, mind. But if you'd rather, I'll share the bed in there with him. Again, you are the guest."

I feel my cheeks colour as I finally voice my decision. "I'll sleep with him."

Mazelinka grins, my ears beginning to burn. "He'll be delighted. Good night then, Sairene." She drops into the hole, into a nest of old blankets, pulling the door shut after her. "Stomp if you need anything," she calls up.

Willing my butterflies to calm down, I go to the partition and pull it aside. The sight that greets me makes me smile and lift a hand to rest over my heart. "Oh Julian," I whisper. Splayed over a modest bed, one leg dangling, Julian is already dead asleep. Carefully, I maneuver around his limbs, finding a comfortable position flush against him. There's a soft sound from his throat as he shifts, winding an arm around my waist. I don't mind it. So very gently, I lift his hand that now rests against my stomach and raise it to my lips. Pressing a soft kiss to each knuckle, I trace the murderer's brand before kissing that too. Cradling his hand in mine, close to my chest, I smile at the small candle. "Why do I feel this way?" I ask the small flame as it dances in the light evening breeze. "I barely know him, yet my heart reaches for him and my soul yearns for his." Sighing, I snuggle into the pillow and murmur a soft spell to extinguish the flame.

Behind me, unknown to me as I believed him to be dead to the world, Julian watches me through sleep-glazed eyes. His smile is sad and it would have broken my heart, had I seen it.

I smile in my sleep as I hear his voice whisper softly in my ear. "Oh my sweet Sairene. How I long for something real with you, if only we had the time."

The words wrap around me as sleep claims me completely.


	9. The Chariot: Nightmares

The sound of a door shutting rouses me to wakefulness, throat dry and head muggy from sleep. I walk sleepily into the kitchen, glancing around. I don't see Mazelinka anywhere. It looks like she must have left for the day already. Dawn is just brushing its fingers against the horizon, little slivers of light performing morning stretches.

I settle down at the table with a sigh, staring down at the wood grain as my brain tries to catch up to my body.

"N-no please-"

I startle at the sound and look towards the partition.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

A loud thud sounds from the bedroom. I shoot to my feet, hardly thinking, and pull the curtains back. Julian drops his head back to the floor with a groan, tangled in the sheets and face as white as a ghost lily. He lifts his hangdog gaze to me, and gives me a wry smile, sweat beading his brow. "Sairene?" He says my name as though he did not expect to see me there. "Did I wake you? I apologise, I did not meant to disturb you." 

Reaching out, I gently take hold of his arm, helping untangle him from the bedsheets. This close, I can feel the tension in his body. He's trembling, not quite meeting my eyes. Almost like he thinks maybe he can hide it from me. "It sounded like you were having a nightmare," I say softly, keeping my hold on his arm.

"Did it?" He meets my gaze for a fleeting moment, then looks away again. What is this sudden distance between us? "That would be... because I was. Having a nightmare, that is." He swallow and drops down to the edge of the bed, his arm slipping from my grasp. He slumps as he rests his elbows on his knees. "Seems silly in the light of day," he mutters, still not looking at me. "Or, er...dawn. It wasn't real..." his voice trails off and my heart clenches at the forlorn look in his eye. "Was it?"

Silence settle between us and I long to close the distance and sit beside him.

"Ahem," he coughs lightly, "why were you out of bed?"

I level him with a look and fold my arms. "You're trying to change the subject. I heard you talking in your sleep. And you're still shaking." 

"What, shaking?" He asks, waggling that eyebrow of his and grinning. "Nonsense, I'm a doctor. My hands are as sure as death and taxes."

Saying nothing, I step closer and feel him watch me as I take one of his hands in my own to confirm my suspicions. Whatever he dreamed, it's shaken his cool resolve. He tries to tug his hand away, but I stubbornly hold on.

"I told you," Julian mutters, his cheeks colouring lightly. "It's nothing. It wasn't real. I have no reason to be upset."

Sighing, I settle down on the bed beside him. He's all nerves, jumping a little as I sidle closer. With our hands still joined, I prompt him to meet my eyes. I nod reassuringly when he heaves a sigh.

"I can't hide anything from those piercing eyes, hm?" He murmurs, subconsciously tracing the back of my hand with his thumb. "Don't know why I bothered in the first place." Pausing, he looks down at our hands. "Do you believe in forgiveness?" He asks suddenly, a light tremor shaking his soft voice.

"Forgiveness?" I repeat quietly. Where is this coming from I wonder? Whatever he dreamed...it must have really shaken him. He looks like a spring too tightly coiled, all tension points.

"Do you think," he continues, drawing little patterns on the back of my hand with his free one. "That even truly heinous things can be forgiven? Or are there some things you don't get to come back from?" 

I say nothing at first. I take him in, his appearance, his demeanor. His avoidance of my gaze. When I finally answer, I am resolute in my decision. "You can come back," I tell him. Maybe it's not the answer Julian wants to hear...or even the answer I would normally like to give. There are some things no one can forgive. That's the sad and painful truth. Even so, you cannot simply stop your life because of it. You cannot stay frozen forever. "You can always come back."

"If I could just _remember_ ," he replies, closing his eye. "Then I would know. If what I've done is something so unforgivable."

"What will you do if it is?" I ask, fearing the answer, but needing to know.

"If I cannot make it right," he says softly, "then I will take whatever punishment I deserve. Without question."

My heart seizes at the thought.

"Well, isn't this a dour conversation. Ahh, don't mind me Sairene," he says, finally meeting my eyes and smiling. "Its just the sleep deprivation talking. Five cups of coffee and I'll get the pep back in my step."

The tension hasn't even begun to leave him, but if he doesn't want to talk, I can't exactly force him. Still, there are other things I can do to help. I move to sit against the wall at the head of the bed, and tug Julian to follow. "Come here."

He flushes at my actions. "Oh, erm- are you... is this what we're doing right now? Well, alright." He doesn't even try to argue or pull away, he just drops his head against my chest and closes his eyes. Before I can stop myself, I run my fingers through his hair, and feel his muscles shift, loosening just a fraction. 

"Julian..." I whisper, my breath ruffling his hair slightly. "You have to relax."

He shifts a little more against me. "Right, sorry." When he shifts this time, his long legs come to stick off the edge of the bed as he stretches them out. I jump lightly as I feel a light touch on my chest and look down to see Julian tracing the shape of the Lavender sprig that my blouse revealed. I feel him take a deep breath, lips parting to speak again.

"Hush," I whisper, carding my finger through his hair. "Julian, you need to sleep."

And he slumps again, lips twitching up as he gazes though his messy bangs up at me. "Thank you, Sairene."

I smile softly. "Thank me after you get some sleep." Eventually we drift off to sleep, a mess of tangles limbs and unspoken worries carried on til morning.

Sunlight dapples my face as a little bird chirps a cheerful tune on the windowsill, rousing me. And it seems as though the bird is my only companion. Julian is gone, a depression in the bed is the only trace he was ever there to begin with.

Frowning, I leave the bed and enter the kitchen, but he's not there either. I am alone in the house. Did he slip away after I fell asleep? Is he coming back? With these thoughts, I slowly drop to sit at the table and stare at my rings. The morning light catching on them. Confusion grips me. Things were going well, weren't they?

I don't know how long I sit there when another voice greets me, sounding absurdly surprised. "Oh. You're, er, already up."

I look up and see Julian, dressed and ready for the day.

"Listen, Sairene," he says and swallows before continuing. "We, need to talk."

Oh no. I feel all the blood leave my face at his words. Nothing ever good comes from that phrase. I eye him him warily, folding my arms. "Alright then."

"Good, good," he replies, looking anywhere but at me. "But er, not here. Let's go to the market, shall we? More places to talk." Stepping back, he holds the door open for me. "After you, my dear."

Julian leads me away from the outskirts of the district and deeper into his part of town, an arm hooked in mine. We eventually emerge from the twisting alleys into a sidestreet bustling with market-goers, noisy and crowded. It's not much like market near my shop. Instead of dedicated stalls, it looks like a regular street that has been converted.

"Sairene," Julian says, dragging my attention back to him after receiving a small bouquet of flowers from the man with the flower cart. 

"Yes?" I reply, reveling in the scent of the blooms.

"About that talk-" he continues but soon cuts himself off. "Ah! I very nearly forgot. First things first, Mazelinka left a shopping list for us. Just a few ingredients to pick up." Brandishing the small scrap of paper, he begins to read. "Pickled tingleberry, charred newt flesh, articulated goosewart. She uses them for her folk remedies. Most effective pep-up soup I've ever had. And I've had a lot of soup." 

I recognise those ingredients. Mainly due to stocking them at the shop. They are most certainly not for any folk remedies. "Does Mazelinka practice magic?" I ask, peering up at him curiously. "These are all spell ingredients."

His eye widens for a brief moment. "What? These things? Nonsense. They're ingredients for medicines. Effective ones to boot."

"Well, in any case," I reply, choosing to drop the subject. "They shouldn't be too hard to find. They're fairly standard. Uhm," I peer closely at the list. 

"Yes? Something wrong?"

I shake my head, giving the list one more glance. It's just..."Where would you go to buy something like this around here?" I don't see anywhere that looks like it could be a magic shop. Or even a streetside lizard vendor. 

"Ahhh, glad you asked," Julian replies, winking at me. "Luckily for you," he pauses to lightly tap my nose. "I have a guy."

I raise an eyebrow. "A guy?"

"Mhm," Julian hums, putting an arm around my shoulders and leading me through the haphazard market. "A guy. It's important to have people one can rely on." His voice drops and somehow I don't think I'm meant to hear what he says next. "You deserve to have someone like that too. Someone who can be there for you. Someone I can't be."

I don't like this. I don't like it at all, but before I can get a word in, Julian continues. "So, Sairene, about that talk-"

Whatever Julian had been meaning to say was interrupted when a street vendor called out to him, even waving her hand for good measure. "Jules, that you?? Ain't seen you in the city fer years, y'old dog! What're you doin' here, eh??"

Julian breaks out into a smile and waves back at the woman. "Tilde!" He calls to her. "Good to see you. How's the wife? Still having those headaches?"

The woman who called out to us scoffs, waving her hand vaguely as she shoulders her leech sack. "She's doin' fine," she replies. "Still talk' 'bout moving to Prakra. What're we gonna do that for, they don't got a leech market there."

Julian takes my hand, pulling me further into the crowds. Merchants and shoppers alike continue to call out to him as we pass. "So, listen. We need to-"

"Watch it! Comin' through!" The next thing I know, a scraggly dog darts past me, a boy hot on his heels, calling to him. "Biscuits, get back here." The tiny urchin barrels past us, chasing the small dog down the street as it howls. They push past me as they run, catching me off balance.

Time seems to slow as I fall backwards, heading directly for a rickety fruit cart. The collision is inevitable.

And then I hit something that is decidedly not a fruit cart, but a broad chest, and the scent of leather and black coffee washes over me as we both stumble backwards. Julian hits the ground with a grunt, arms wrapped securely around me to break my fall. "Oof! Sairene, you alri- ohhhh no," I follow his gaze and watch as the cart beside us wobbles. Then an apple in the corner of the stack breaks free and hits the ground in front of us, rolling to a stop as it hits Julian's foot.

A resounding crash echoes up and down the street as the cart begins to collapse, Julian and I wince in unison. "Ohh, that's going to hurt," he mutters under his breath to me and I can't help but agree. His eye widens briefly before he rolls us, blocking the collapsing cart from hitting me with his body, and lets out a grunt. "Are you alright?" He whispers, face inches from mine. "Nothing hit you, did it?"

I shake my head and opt for a small smile. "I'm okay," I breathe, all too conscious of how close those lips of his are to mine. If I simply moved just _a little_ closer-

My plans are cut off at the pass when he pulls me to my feet and dusts me off, hovering over me like a worried mother hen. Stepping back from me, he surveys the street and rubs the back of neck. "Now, isn't this a mess? Looks like I'm buying a fruit stand today." He rummages around in his cloak, and then pulls out a nonedescript burlap bag that jingles with the clink of coin. I can do little but stare in fascination as he pours a pile of foreign currency out in front of the harried fruit vendor. There must be a small fortune contained in that bag.

"Well," Julian says as he returns to stand beside me. "That takes care of that." Turning to face the street, he calls out, loud and clear. "Free fruit! Come get your free fruit everyone!"

Within moments, a ravenous crowd descends on the bruised fruit, quickly clearing the streets of any last remnant.

Julian takes my hand, and pulls me out of the throng and into a side street, then begins to check me over for injuries.

"Julian-"

"Mmhmrmhm, yep?" He looks up briefly when I say his name. "You weren't hurt were you? Everything still where it should be?" When I nod, he continues. "I'm awfully sorry about all that. I should have mentioned the streets can get rowdy. Ah! I know," his eye lights up with an idea. "I'll make it up to you. This next place is sure to knock your socks off. Nice little teahouse, just down the way. We can sit there and...talk. It's cozy, you'll like it."

With those words, he leads me away from the market, and off deeper into the city, my hand still clasped tightly in his.


End file.
